


And the Butchery Begins

by Caroline_Spencer



Category: Cruel Intentions (1999)
Genre: Deception, F/F, F/M, Pseudo-Incest, Threesome - F/F/M, Violence, general asshole-ness, implied rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6217129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caroline_Spencer/pseuds/Caroline_Spencer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We're going to have to go farther than we've ever have before. Push harder. Are you up for that? Kathryn and Sebastian go to war. (very) loosely based on House of Cards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I've Worked Too Hard

**Author's Note:**

> This is VERY loosely based on House of Cards. Just stole a few plot points and general character sketches. 
> 
> All the quotes at the beginning of the chapters come from season 1, 2, and possibly season 4 (which was awesome and totally to blame for me writing this nonsense).

 

_**I've worked too hard to come within arm's reach of the prize only to have my hand cut off just before I seize it.** _

 

* * *

 

 

 

Kathryn hears the news during a junior league luncheon in the park.

 

It's an ungodly hot august afternoon. The temperature had to be at least hitting ninety with the sun barring down on them in what could only be described as a hostile manner. Kathryn loathed the summer preferring instead the icy treatment of winter. Give her snow and bitter wind chills over oppressive heat any day of the week. As it stood the only thing keeping her from sweating through her chic silk Oscar de la Renta was her own force of will.

 

 _Merteuil's don't sweat_.

 

She hears her mother's shrill voice echo in her head and feels a sudden icy chill. It might have been refreshing had it not been accompanied by a flood of other unwanted memories that Kathryn quickly shuts down.

 

 _I bet you're sweating now mother_ , she thinks bitterly to herself. _Enjoy burning in hell bitch_.

 

Refusing to give the woman or her memory one more moment of her time, she tunes back into the committee chair currently addressing the crowd. Unfortunately, she's an exceedingly dull public speaker and Kathryn looses interest within moments. Instead, she turns her attention on the well heeled group sitting before her, wondering which brain dead idiot decided it was a good idea to host this thing outdoors without even the courtesy of a white tent to shield them from the unforgiving sun. She for one had no interest in leaving this afternoon looking like a Kardashian.

 

She's zeroing in the the giggly daughter of the deputy mayor as the culprit when Georgie Fairbanks, leans over and whispers to her, “Did you hear about headmaster Pennyworth?”

 

Kathryn sips her sparkling water, casting a brief mildly interested look in her direction. Georgie was a pill, but always good for gossip. “No, what?”

 

Eyes lit with excitement she reveals, “He got caught messing around with Liv Bancroft, you know that sophomore with the bad nose job. Her parents walked in on them at their beach house. It was a total scene!”

 

“I can imagine,” Kathryn murmurs, posture stiffening as her stomach drops. This wasn't good. Something akin to panic beings to curl unwanted around her throat. “What happened next?”

 

“He got fired of course,” she laughs. “Heard he left the city and everything. God, can you imagine being so desperate as to screw that loser. The guys a total perv.”

 

Actually, yes she could imagine being that desperate. Kathryn thinks about her promised student body president position and all the degrading things she had to let that asshole do to her in order to secure it. Now the possibility stood that it was all for naught. She digs her nails into the back of her hand to keep from screaming.

 

“Well who are they getting to replace him?” she asks perhaps a tad too shrilly. When Georgie blinks at her in surprise Kathryn quickly adds in a lighter tone, “I mean, surly they'll replace him before the semester starts.”

 

The dipshit shrugs, clearly already bored with the conversation. “Yeah I think they already hired someone.”

 

“Who?” Kathryn demands. Fuck her tone, this was too important.

 

“I don't know, some guy, I think my mother said he was from Kansas.”

 

When the crowd breaks into polite applause at the end of the woman's speech, Georgie joins in and Kathryn uses the moment to discreetly pull out her phone. She texts her stepbrother with this latest development. His response is two words long.

 

_We're fucked_

 


	2. The Nature of Promises

 

_**The Nature of promises is that they remain immune to changing circumstances.** _

 

* * *

 

 

“The headmaster will see you now Kathryn”

 

Finally. He had been keeping her waiting for the better part of fifteen minutes. If she didn't know better she would suspect this was a strategic maneuver on his part to display his dominance, but alas she knew different. Kathryn seriously doubted a former principal of a public school in Kansas practiced much psychological warfare. More's the pity. He was going to need to bone up if wanted to survive Manchester.

 

Smiling pleasantly at the dowdy secretary, she rises to her feet. “Thank you Ms. Kellerman.”

 

With her shoulder squared Kathryn marches confidentially ahead opening the mahogany door to the office to find it occupied by their new headmaster, Benjamin Hargrove. He gets to his feet as she enters, greeting her with a warm smile and an outstretched hand.

 

“Well, hello there. I don't believe we've been formally introduced. I'm headmaster Hargrove.”

 

Kathryn smiles prettily up at him as they shake. “Kathryn Merteuil. I'm so excited to meet you headmaster Hargrove.”

 

“Same here Kathryn. Have a seat.”

 

As she makes herself comfortable on the other side of the desk, she uses the moment to study her new headmaster. She had seen him briefly of course during the morning assembly, but this was her first real good look at him. Kathryn wasn't particularly impressed. He was fortish, tall with a growing bald spot and he wore a suit she guessed cost roughly half the price of her own Italian leather loafers. He looked like a sitcom dad and judging by his performance at the assembly she surmised he had the personality of one as well. What a nightmare.

 

On further inspection however, she did notice a few interesting things. First, he wore a wedding band even though he had been widowed for over five years. Two, he had a bible squeezed into the overstuffed bookshelf behind him. The rumors of him being a hardcore conservative were likely true then.

 

Most interestingly however she notes his gaze never once travels to her tits or her bare legs. Unlike his predecessor, Hargrove has no interest in fucking his students. How refreshing. And not at all useful.

 

Clasping his hands together he asks, “So Kathryn, what can I help you with?”

 

“Well, as the new student body president, I wanted to run a few ideas I had about student government by you.” Opening up her notebook she pulls out a detailed calendar along with a slightly altered version of Sebastian's school transcript. “There was also another matter I wished to-

 

“Wait Kathryn,” he interjects, holding up his hand. “I think there's been some confusion.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes, I'm sorry, I thought you were already informed...I'm sorry but you're not the new student body president.”

 

Part of her had been expecting this having long ago trained herself to expect the worst, but the blow still stung none the less. Trying to swallow her fury as best she could she argues with strained patients, “I don't understand. Headmaster Pennyworth _promised_ me the position.”

 

Hargrove scratches the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable. “Yes I'm aware, but unfortunately circumstances have changed. I know it's disappointing, but I'll hope you understand.”

 

Lips purses she let's her good girl facade slip just slightly when she lets her anger get the best of her. “I'm sorry but I don't. You've read by transcript?”

 

“Of course”

 

“Then you agree I'm more than qualified.”

 

“Yes, your school record is exemplary, you're clearly one of the brightest students in your class. You have glowing recommendations from many faculty members, your extra curriculars are outstanding. It's very impressive.”

 

“Then what's the problem?” she demands.

 

Hargrove takes a deep breath then let's out a shaky laugh. “You know, where I'm from, students actually _pick_ their leaders.”

 

She imagines where he's from people marry their first cousins too.

 

“Manchester doesn't do democracy.” It's a harsh statement, but it's worth it to see the startled look in his eyes when she voices it.

 

Once again he shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “Yes, I'm starting to see that. Here's the thing, the school board held a vote and it was decided it was in the best interest of everyone if we went another way.”

 

“I see. Can I at least know why?”

 

Hargrove's expression softens as he leans across the desk and says gently, “I understand you recently lost your parents.”

 

Kathryn pictures her mother's skin darkening and curling horrifically as the flames eat her alive. It's a dark image and not one she actually got to witness of course but it's one her imagination can't help but conjure when the subject of her recent death comes up. It's oddly comforting.

 

“I can only imagine the pain you must be in. And on top of that, having to deal with your aunt Helen's accident...”

 

She has a flash of the old lady's crumpled body at the end of the staircase after the 'accident' and has to stop herself from smirking. Initially she had been angry at Sebastian's impulsiveness, but she had to admit it had been highly satisfying to witness her downfall. Literally.

 

“She's such a lovely woman,” Hargrove prattles on, “I know we're all praying for her.”

 

She does her best to mimic the appearance of sorrow, clutching the rosary wrapped around her wrist, she blinks back a few fake tears. “It's been hard. The plane crash was so sudden. One minute they were here, the next...and my aunt...” she chokes back a sob, “But luckily I still have my brother Sebastian and of course God. Whenever I'm feeling down I turn to him and he helps me through it.”

 

Hargrove of course buys ever phony, sanctimonious word. “I understand completely. I myself am a Christian. I know when I lost my wife, I found a lot of comfort in the lord.”

 

“That's great,” she replies, straining for sympathetic as she wipes away imaginary tears. “I had been really looking forward to being student body president. It gave me purpose all summer helping me to cope with losing my mother and stepfather. There was so much good I was hoping to do here.”

 

He nods. “I can see that, but it was decided it was best, for everyone, especially _you_ if we went another way. Your aunt Mrs. Rosemond, was very vocal with her concern that we not overwhelm you. She insisted the job would be too much for you at this time.”

 

Rosemond. That cunt, she should have known. This was all her doing. She kept Sebastian out of school and now she was going to keep her from getting him back in. If that bitch wasn't in a coma, she'd fucking finish her off. Hell perhaps she'd swing by the hospital on the way home from school and pull the damn plug herself.

 

As Kathryn plotted her step-aunt's murder Hargrove continued, “I must admit I'm in agreement with her. Manchester, while a terrific institution, really could do with a stronger hand. A leader who can really commit his all to the position.”

 

 _His_. She caught the slip. So that's what this was about. She was the weak, fragile female and because she had a vagina she was in no way fit to lead. He wanted a male president. Fucking typical.

 

“Perhaps you can consider joining the booster club,” he suggest to her condescendingly. “They could really use your efforts there.”

 

The booster club? So she could plan pep rallies and run bake sales? Fuck you hayseed.

 

Kathryn's so furious she could rip a door off it's hinges, but of course she doesn't let it show. She can't and she won't let this sexist shitbag see her defeated. So she does what she does best, she fakes a smile as she secretly plots his demise.

 

“That's something to think about,” she says brightly. “While I'm disappointed of course I understand your position headmaster.”

 

The man looks positively relieved, sinking back in his seat with a sigh. “I'm so happy to hear that. Thank you for being understanding about this Kathryn.”

 

“Of course.” Getting up from her chair she heads to the door, her smile disappearing once her back was turned. Pausing on the threshold she turns back to him. “Out of curiosity, who have you decided to elect instead?”

 

“Court Reynolds.”

 

For a split second, upon hearing that name, Kathryn forgets to breathe. She feels herself being pushed face first into the mattress. The feel of his hand on the back of her skull as he smothers her into the pillow. The bluntness of his ugly cock as he pushes inside of her, tearing her apart. The pain,so sharp and fierce she thinks she's going to die.

 

_Shut the fuck up cunt and take it._

 

Kathryn flinches, bringing herself back, then promptly pushes the memory far enough away not to touch her. She forces a smile.

 

“Well, that's a wonderful choice sir. Thanks for your time.”

 

Leaving the room her legs feel shaky, but she refuses to acknowledge it. The past was a bitch she had no intentions of surrendering to. Eyes hard and determined she starts to leave, only to come face to face with her past as it rounds the corner.

 

Court Reynolds was tall and handsome, with a smug smile and cold eyes. As always Kathryn feels small in his presence, but refuses to let it show through. They don't speak as she walks past him, head held high, gaze forward, but his answering leer she views out of the corner of her eye, says everything.

 

Exiting the office, she makes a bee line for the ladies room. After a quick stall check to secure her privacy she pulls out her crucifix, yanking so hard on the chain she leaves an ugly red mark on her wrist. Her hands shake as she unscrews it and takes a bump. Only it's too fast and it burns.

 

“Goddamnit,” she hisses aloud, squeezing her nose. She can not afford a nosebleed right now. It was only third period.

 

Examining her reflection she cringes inwardly. She looked like herself, the pretty perfect debutant who always did the right thing and never stepped out of line, but something looked slightly off. Her eyes were too bright, her cheeks were flushed and her hands wouldn't stop trembling.

 

Fuck Court. Fuck Hargrove.

 

Staring dead on at her reflection Kathryn swears with absolute authority, “You will not be defeated.”

 


	3. Two Kinds of Pain

 

_**There are two kinds of pain. The sort of pain that makes you strong, or useless pain. The sort of pain that’s only suffering. I have no patience for useless things.** _

 

* * *

 

 

It's dark out by the time she get's home. Kathryn only made it through fifth period before skipping out, telling her minions she called friends she wasn't feeling well. Instead, she went out to Brooklyn to see her dealer. Not Blaine. He was too nosy and besides, he didn't accept sex as payment.

 

It wasn't that she didn't have the money, she just liked it, the debasement. Sometimes she was so desperate to feel anything she'd even take that.

 

By the time she get's home her buzz has worn off and she's back to feeling numb again. Kathryn's almost safely ensconced in her bedroom when Sebastian steps out of his room. His shirt is open, his pants are undone and he's holding an expensive looking camera. Despite the ridiculousness of his appearance his expression is serious. “Where have you been?”

 

Kathryn looks past him to the giggling, half dressed blonde in his bed and rolls her eyes. “Does it matter?”

 

She brushes past him and heads into her bedroom, but her stepbrother is hot on her heels. “I've been calling you all afternoon,” he snaps, closing the door behind him. “Why didn't you pick up?”

 

“I wasn't in the mood.” Heading to the wet bar she fixes herself a drink. She suspects she's going to need it for the ensuing conversation.

 

“Are you high?” he asks, the undercurrent of annoyance evident in his tone. It grates.

 

“Not anymore,” she grumbles into her bourbon.

 

“Kathryn-

 

“Don't you dare,” she bites out, turning abruptly to face him. “I'm not in the mood for your hypocritical shit right now Valmont.”

 

He opens his mouth as if to argue then shuts it. The room is dark, but a sliver of light from the streetlamps down below cuts across his face, illuminating his eyes. “You're avoiding me,” he states. “Since when do we avoid each other?” When she doesn't answer him he asks, only slightly more gently, “What happened with Hargrove?”

 

Kathryn let's out a long sigh. “Do you want the bad news or the worse news?”

 

“I want everything”

 

She shakes her head. “He's not giving me the position.”

 

“God dammit!” he yells. “Why the hell not?”

 

“Officially, it's because he fears it's too soon after the parentals. Poor little Kathryn is too traumatized to handle it. But the truth is Hargrove is a sexist piece of shit and your aunt got to him first.”

 

Sebastian groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “That fucking bitch, I should have known.” Then almost as an afterthought to himself he remarks, “I should have killed her when I had the chance.”

 

“You put her in a coma,” she mutters darkly into her drink, “One would have thought that would do the trick.”

 

Helen Rosemond was currently at Mount Sinai hospital in a medically induced coma after taking a tumble down her staircase. She was elderly and lived alone and these things happen—especially when you were a money grubbing, power hungry bitch who had it coming.

 

As it turns out Aunt Helen wasn't the sweet old lady they always thought her to be. The truth was she was more skilled in the art of manipulation than Kathryn could ever hope to be. She had been playing them, hell, playing everyone for _years_.

 

After their parents accident, Edward's will was revealed. To the surprise of no one he left the entirety of Valmont International to Sebastian. While Kathryn was left a nice tidy sum by her mother it paled in comparison to the Valmont billions. There was one stipulation however. Sebastian had to graduate from Manchester first. It seemed like an odd request but really it wasn't. The Valmont's practically built Manchester and the same condition appeared in his grandfather's will and his great grandfather's will before that. It was tradition. Yet another quirk of old money.

 

It shouldn't have been a problem as Sebastian was on the cusp of graduating anyway. Then in July he got a letter from the school informing him of his expulsion. Apparently the combination of a prior academic probation and a lack of attendance the previous year let someone exploit some sort of loophole. Initially they suspected it was a board member with a grudge who heard about the stipulation in the will and wanted payback for Sebastian fucking their daughter or something.

 

Someone had a grudge alright, it just wasn't who they expected.

 

When he turned to his aunt for help, the old bitch finally revealed her true colors. Bitter and angry that her brother left the family fortune to, in her words, “his degenerate son” she was determined to get her hands on the keys to the kingdom. As the second living family member (by blood) she would receive the company if Sebastian failed to graduate. It went without saying she planned to do everything in her considerable power to ensure that happened.

 

It had been Kathryn's idea to exploit a loophole of her own. Manchester was comically antiquated and thus the student body president had more power than was truly acceptable. For instance the president got to have a seat on the school board and could in fact vote if say a student was challenging an expulsion. Kathryn figured if she could get herself elected president she could swing the vote in Sebastian's favor.

 

Since she had no student government experience (that was for losers and future Princeton grads thank you very much) and hadn't spent the past year campaigning for the position, the only way she was going to get it was by seducing the headmaster. Kathryn agreed to this of course under the condition that she receive (in writing) several shares of Valmont stock, a seat on the board, 30% of Sebastian's liquid assets and the deed to the house. He agreed and a few weeks later it was done. Or so they thought.

 

When Sebastian found out about the new headmaster, he had a bitter argument with his aunt. She crowed about finding the perfect moral puppet who wouldn't allow Kathryn to whore her way on to the board. Kathryn couldn't be sure if it was the insult to her character or the prospect of losing that caused Sebastian to snap and shove her down the stairs.

 

The fall didn't kills her. Unfortunately. But it was doubtful she'd ever wake up. Even if she did, there was no telling what she'd remember.

 

At the moment she was the least of their concerns.

 

They had both hoped Hargrove might be smart enough not to fall under his aunt's thrall, but clearly they had been mistaken. Now they were back to square one.

 

Sebastian, who has begun to pace, as he's prone to when stressed, asks almost as an afterthought, “Who did they choose instead?”

 

Kathryn hesitates before answering, anticipating his reaction. After a beat she reveals, “Court Reynolds.”

 

Sebastian goes still and his eyes go dark. Turning around he picks up a glass from the bar and chucks it violently across the room letting out a growl of anger as he does. Kathryn jumps in surprise, nearly dropping her own glass in the process.

 

Setting her drink down she stares at her stepbrother's trembling hands. “You know the twisted part is I'm fairly certain she choose him on purpose. She found me that night after he...she was the only one besides you who knew. She choose Court to punish me.”

 

“She's a fucking cunt,” he snarls, his voice almost breaking. He looks over at her and their eyes meet. She thinks she sees pity but maybe it's just his version of compassion. Who can tell the difference? When he edges closer to her Kathryn holds her hand up to stop him and turns away.

 

Sebastian merely sighs. “What do we do now? I need to get back in that damn school.”

 

“I'm aware of the situation Valmont.”

 

“Then why aren't you more angry?”

 

Kathryn whirls around to face him, snapping, “I am angry.”

 

“Oh really? You could have fooled me. All I see is defeat.”

 

He was right she wasn't angry anymore. She was numb. “Well I'm sorry.”

 

Sebastian jerks back as if having been slapped. “Don't. My sister _never_ apologizes.”

 

Turning abruptly he exits the room, leaving Kathryn to stare silently at the mess he left behind. She goes for another drink then stops herself.

 

This is all their parents fault, she thinks bitterly for the millionth time since hearing about the accident. If they hadn't been stupid enough to board a private plane with a loaded pilot they wouldn't be in this mess. Six months ago her life was perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, but is was a far cry from this.

 

She and Valmont, they had done a lot of fucked up shit in their time, but they had never been forced to go this far before. Putting people in coma's was some next level shit she wasn't all too convinced they were ready for. To top it off she now had Court Reynolds back in her life. She spent years doing everything possible to suppress and strangle the memories of what he did to her. Now the possibility, that she might have to interact with him...

 

Fuck that.

 

Gripping the side of the metal table Kathryn furiously tips the entire bar over sending the contents crashing loudly to the ground.

 

Sebastian, hearing the crash, pauses in his doorway and stares back at his sister's bedroom door. He smiles. _That's my girl._

 

The half dressed blonde in his bed giggles. Sebastian turns back to her, frowning. “Out.”

 

 

 


	4. There is but One Rule

 

_**For those of us climbing to the top of the food chain, there can be no mercy. There is but one rule: hunt or be hunted.** _

 

* * *

 

 

Sebastian waits for her on the balcony.

 

The night is surprisingly brisk for September. There's a distinctive chill in the air as it whips against his cheek pebbling his skin. Sebastian pays it no mind, passively staring at the empty street below, he takes another drag from his cigarette.

 

It's been hours, but she has yet to come out of her room. He considers going to her, but thinks better of it. She has to do this on her own time. She'll come to him, when she's ready. She always does.

 

He fucking hates this.

 

Six months ago his biggest concern was which debutante to corrupt and how to get Kathryn to consent to anal. Now he was going to war over a legacy that was rightfully his, dealing with a psychotic aunt who may or may not finger him for murder should she ever wake up and to top it off he was dragging Kathryn further into things with Reynolds of all people.

 

Something has to give. Valmont needs a win.

 

When the he hears his bedroom door creak open behind him, Sebastian let's out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and allowed himself a brief smile. Not turning around he listens as his stepsister's feet pad quietly on the hardwood floor as she fixes them a drink.

 

Kathryn joins him on the balcony, wrapped up in a white silk robe, her face scrubbed clean, her hair pulled back. For once she looks her age and not for the first time Sebastian finds himself cursing his father's death for it left him forever bound to her by familial ties. Forgetting what goes on behind closed doors, in the eyes of society she would always be viewed as his sister. She could never be seen as belonging fully to him.

 

Not that she would ever admit she did anyway.

 

Handing him a drink Kathryn announces, “I know what I have to do.”

 

“Good,” he replies evenly.

 

“I know what **_we_ ** have to do,” she corrects herself.

 

Sebastian smiles and sips his drink. “Even better.” He had no intention of being left out of things.

 

Kathryn studies him a moment, seeming to consider something before edging closer. The wind rustles her hair and he can breath her in. His body, as it always does when she's near, comes alive. God damn Pavlov's bell. His finger itch to grab at her, pull her in, but he resists. This is too important and his need can wait.

 

“This isn't going to be easy Sebastian,” she continues, “We're going to have to go farther than we've ever have before. Push harder. Are you up for that?”

 

He thinks they've long since past the point of no return, but none the less he appreciates the warning. “When have either of us ever enjoyed easy?” he quips.

 

She smiles knowingly back at him in acknowledgment. There's so much history between them sometimes he thinks he knows her better than anyone. Then she'll look at him like that, with her Mona Lisa smile and he thinks he doesn't know her at all. It's a terrifying thought and he finds himself eager to snuff it out.

 

Closing the space between them he cups her face, staring down at her intently as if trying to will her to read his mind. Then strangely enough she does just that.

 

“You worry too much,” she murmurs before leaning up and kissing him. Sebastian eagerly returns her affections, threading his fingers through her hair, he clutches Kathryn's petite body tightly against his own. She feels small in his arms, fragile and feminine and not at all the stone cold mythic bitch they both know she is. His hand travels down the front of her robe before casually tugging it open. When he slips inside, fingers tracing over the underside of her bare breasts, she whimpers something unintelligible against his lips then she's breaking away.

 

Kathryn's eyes are dark and her cheeks are flushed as she steps back, fixing her robe. It's a nice reminder that although she likes to argue otherwise at times, she wants this thing between them as badly as he does.

 

(But she'll never admit it. Not even when he's fucking her into the headboard.)

 

Snagging the cigarette out of his hand Kathryn teases, “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

 

She takes a long drag off his cigarette then hands it over before making herself comfortable against the stone railing. Leaning against the opposite wall he considers her. “You know it's been a long time since you and I played on the same side.”

 

“Yes I know,” she drawls her eyes drinking him in, her hunger clearly evident. “I'm rather looking forward to it.”

 

As was he.

 


	5. Hold a Rock With Your Left

 

_**Shake with your right hand, but hold a rock with your left** _

 

* * *

 

 

Hargrove didn't arrive in Manhattan empty handed, he came with a daughter.

 

Annette is about as anti-Manchester as one could hope to get. She's pretty and pert in a wholesome kind of way. Her white regulation dress shirt is buttoned to the the top button. She wears headbands and knee socks and a simple gold cross around her neck and none of it is meant to be _ironic_ or even deceitful.

 

She appears genuinely nice, kind and considerate. That's not to say she's a total idiot and a pushover. Clearly her 4.0 gpa points to intelligence and Kathryn notes there seems to be a bit of savvy in the girl. Which is needed as there's more than a bit of curiosity thrown her way.

 

As if being the headmaster's daughter wasn't enough of a challenge, the little dingbat went and published an article in _seventeen magazine_ (who knew that was still around?) detailing her desire to stay a virgin until marriage or she fell in love or some bullshit Kathryn couldn't begin to comprehend. Given the fact that their school was filled with morally bankrupt assholes, this of course was like dangling a piece of meat in front of a pack of hungry hyenas.

 

For a solid week Kathryn observes from the side lines as every degenerate in school makes a pass at her. She swats them away with ease, all pretty smiles and demure apologies, that leave the losers hanging their heads in shame that they dared tried to sully something obviously so sweet and pristine. Although she didn't doubt for a second that everything out of the girls mouth was a hundred percent genuine and she truly was not working some ulterior motive, she still had to admire her game.

 

Taking all of this into account, even if she wasn't setting the girl up as her latest stooge, Kathryn would still loath her on principal alone. As far as she was concerned anything that _good_ could only be met with scorn.

 

But here's why Annette is useful to her: outside of her obvious connection to the headmaster, little Annette was also a burgeoning reporter. She's not in school a day before she joins the Manchester Beat. Little Lois Lane in training clearly had some ambition. One of her first articles published is about the secret culture of bulimia at their school. Needless to say this doesn't exactly make her popular with anyone. The guys might have found her sweetheart innocence appealing, but the females, the real power in their hallowed halls weren't having it. Most days she eats lunch alone in the office of the school paper or worse, with her father.

 

Naturally Kathryn assumes when she begins making tentative overtures of friendship towards little Dorothy, they will be met with wholehearted enthusiasm. This is not the case. Annette's polite of course when Kathryn makes small talk with her in French class but there's a tentativeness. It's almost as if she doesn't quite trust her.

 

This of course more than pique's her interest. Kathryn hadn't expected little Annette to pose any kind of challenge. It's rather a refreshing change, if not at all convenient.

 

That said, she's also on a bit of a time crunch therefore she decides to forgo foreplay all together. Instead, Kathryn tracks her down during lunch in the office of the student paper and lays out (some of) her proposal. She wants to help Annette with her next story. Not surprisingly the blonde doesn't jump for the bait.

 

“Forgive me, but why would the most popular girl in school want to help me?” The office is quiet and empty with just the two of them standing on either side of the long, raised desk, cluttered with papers, layouts, and Annette's pathetic half-eaten turkey sandwich.

 

Kathryn consciously fingers her rosary wrapped around her wrist as if it will somehow make her appear more trustworthy. “Why wouldn't she?”

 

Annette's eyes falls on her cross and her gaze narrows just slightly. She seems to consider her words carefully. “You know, that story I wrote about bulimia? Your name came up.” Confidently meeting her stare she reveals, “Some people had some not so flattering things to say about you.”

 

“Did they? That's not surprising.” Kathryn keeps her tone indifferent while internally she's pulling up a mental index of who could have betrayed her. “Some people get jealous so easily. I notice you didn't use my name in the article.”

 

She shrugs, turning back around to fiddle with some papers. “I couldn't prove anything of course. Besides, it's just gossip, _right_?”

 

Annette shoots a knowing look over her shoulder, lips quirked in a half smile. Kathryn wordlessly nods. Jesus, what was it with this girl?

 

Turning back around Annette looks her over. “A lot of people at this school weren't pleased with my story. You know it occurs to me you might be extending this olive branch in order to get me to lower my guard. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Isn't that something girls like you always say?”

 

“Girls like me?” she spits back, growing flustered. “Aren't we the judgmental one. You don't even know me.”

 

“That's true,” she says, shrugging passively, as if she doesn't care one way or another. It's infuriating. Kathryn's used to a certain level of respect when it comes to her peers.

 

Bristling under her calm indifference she asks, “Are you always this paranoid?”

 

“Do I have a reason to be?”

 

_Touche little mouse._

 

Kathryn rounds the desk to stand in front of her, imposing herself in Annette's personal space. In a tone that could be considered menacing if one chose to view it as such she remarks, “Annette if I wanted to hurt you, trust me, I wouldn't need subterfuge to do it.”

 

Annette blinks up at her, wide eyed, but doesn't back down. “Then what do you want?”

 

“I told you, I want to help you. Manchester has always operated under a cloak of secrecy. I think it's high time we lift the vale. People have been allowed to get away with things they shouldn't. This school has a lot of secrets.”

 

“What kind of secrets?”

 

Kathryn reaches out, brushing a strand of errant blond hair out of her face, her palm just grazing her cheek. Annette's gaze falters momentarily, her cheeks pinken. Her breath seems to be coming more rapidly as Kathryn leans in, lips close to her ear and reveals, “The _dark_ kind.”

 

_Do I have your attention now bitch?_

 

Annette's eyes flicker back to hers before abruptly stepping back. She swallows thickly, no longer looking as confident as she once was. “S-so you want to collaborate or something?”

 

“In a way. I have considerable resources and my status at this school allows me access not afforded others. You do your investigative journalist thing. I can be your source. ” Kathryn smiles, “We can make a great team.”

 

Annette regards her with skepticism. “And I'm just suppose to trust you? I've seen _Carrie_. I know how this story goes.” Gathering up her things she brushes past her for the door, calling over her shoulder. “No thanks.”

 

“You're seriously not interested?”

 

“I work alone.”

 

She allows her to get almost to the door before calling out, “So I've noticed. You do a lot of things alone. Must get lonely.”

 

Annette pauses in the doorway then slowly turns. “As if you would know anything about that. You're worshiped at this school.”

 

Kathryn realizes then she's going to have to give a little of herself. Hargrove was clearly seeing through all her BS. Perhaps she'd allow her a peak behind the curtain—albeit a superficial one.

 

“You'd be surprised,” she says, taking a seat at the desk. “I spend most of time at this school pretending to be someone I'm not.”

 

Annette flinches, clearly surprised, clearly interested. She steps further into the room. “Why's that?”

 

Kathryn pointedly drops her rosary into her purse. “Because if people knew the real me, they might not like that girl.”

 

Annette smiles for the first time that afternoon. “Wow, a moment of honesty.”

 

She shrugs. “I admire you Annette, for not caring what everyone thinks. I wish I could be that brave.”

 

“Thank you.” The blond sizes her up once more and Kathryn can practically view the argument going on in her head. This girl couldn't hide anything. Pathetic.

 

Finally, she approaches her once again, dropping her bag onto the desk. “Alright,” she sighs, “So this story. What did you have in mind?”

 

Kathryn feeds her a story about steroid abuse by the football team. Sure enough, a week later there's an editorial on the front page of the school paper under Annette's by-line. Just like her previous article this one causes a shit storm, although this one is a little louder because it concerns _boys_ and _football_ which we all know is more important than girls abusing their own bodies for the purpose of self image.

 

Kathryn is in the empty office, reading over Annette's article on her tablet when the girl herself arrives. “So what do you think?” she asks eagerly. She might not fully trust her, but she craved her approval. She could work with that.

 

“Not bad little mouse.”

 

“Thanks. I think.” Annette makes a face at her new nickname as she takes a seat beside her. “Your sources all checked out. You never did tell me, how did you find out about all that?”

 

“Cheerleaders talk.” And Blaine sold them the drugs and likes to get chatty when he's high.

 

Wanting to change the subject she inquires casually as if she doesn't already know the answer, “How have people been responding to it? Anyone giving you shit?”

 

Annette fiddles with the strap of her bag, eyes averted. “Um, good for the most part. I mean, the football team isn't exactly thrilled with me.”

 

“No loss there,” Kathryn quips.

 

“Well I've known Greg McConnell, the team running back, since I was in diapers. He's not talking to me and he was one of the few friends I had here.”

 

“We're friends aren't we?”

 

Annette shoots her a look. “I meant friends that would _actually_ talk to me in public.”

 

Kathryn sighs, shifting against her seat. “I told you, if people see us out together they might start suspecting I'm your source. Then I'll be no good to you.”

 

“Yeah not to mention it might hurt that reputation of yours if people knew you were a rat,” she challenges.

 

“Well that goes without saying,” Kathryn replies, completely unapologetic. “You can afford not giving a damn what others think about you, but I can't. Some of us don't have a choice.”

 

Annette's rests her head on her hand, her inquisitive eyes studying her. “Why's that?”

 

Kathryn considers answering her question then thinks better of it. There was no way she was going into that minefield. Instead she changes the subject once again. Reaching into her bag she pulls out a small, perfectly wrapped rectangular package.

 

“Here, I got you something.”

 

Annette reacts to the present with her usual skepticism before digging in. “A Mont Blanc fountain pen?” she gasps, removing the ridiculously expensive writing utensil. It's silver and white solitaire.

 

When she does nothing but stare at it dumbly Kathryn huffs, “You hate it. It's lame.” She attempts to snatch it back, but Annette holds on.

 

“No! I love it, you just didn't have to do it is all.”

 

“I know,” she responds airily, getting out of her seat she heads to the door. Happy to leave the blonde flummoxed in her wake.

 

“Wait Kathryn.” When she turns around, Annette is staring at the pen, looking chagrined. “About what I said earlier. I'm sorry. We are friends.”

 

Kathryn smiles. And just like that the first piece of her plan falls into place.

 


	6. What We Choose to Reveal

 

_**After all, we are nothing more or less than what we choose to reveal.** _

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sebastian learned long ago that generosity held it's own kind of power.

 

Take this afternoon for instance. He was graciously allowing Manchester to hold it's annual autumnal mixer at his aunt's estate even though he was no longer welcomed at their school. He does this for two reasons. One, he figures if Kathryn's scheme works out this bit of kindness will go a long way with the school board and two, having the party at the estate meant he could attend, giving him access to all the fresh meat currently on display.

 

The party was held out in the garden under white tents with the afternoon sun bathing everything in gilded light. It was the kind of soiree Fitzgerald used to yammer on about. The upper crust reveling in their wealth and privilege. What a fine sight it was.

 

It was also incredibly boring.

 

The mixer was yet another excuse for the faculty to mingle with students and their wealthy parents. As if there weren't enough of these damn things already. Under normal circumstances Sebastian wouldn't be caught dead at a gathering like this but unfortunately the situation dictated he make an appearance.

 

Sebastian was on a hunting expedition and therefor was keeping a low profile. He had forgone his regular black ensemble in favor of a crisp gray suit at the insistence of his sister.

 

“ _We can't have you looking like the big, bad wolf_ ,” she chastised.

 

He knew how to dress, thank you very much, but sometimes it was just easier to let her have her way.

 

Resting against an oak tree located on the edge of the party, he broods silently while perusing the crowd. There were plenty of lovely morsels on display, pretty gazelle's ripe for the picking. He makes eye contact with a few, receiving pretty blushes and coquettish smiles. A half dozen of them blatantly eye fuck him back. This was interesting, but also the exact opposite of what he was after. He needed innocence.

 

“See anything you like?”

 

He turns to find Kathryn at his side looking fetching in her dark maroon dress and weapon sharp heels. “Not yet,” he informs her. Skeptically eying the drink in her hand he asks, “Water?”

 

“Vodka”

 

Sebastian takes the glass from her and downs half of it. She makes an amused sound. “Going that well is it?”

 

“Finding a virgin at Manchester is like trying to locate a hard dick at a dyke bar,” he grumbles. Casting another look around the party his gaze lands on the headmasters daughter, currently sitting by herself under a tree, her head buried in some Jane Austen. “Speaking of virgins...how goes it with Miss. Seventeen magazine?”

 

Kathryn sighs, her gaze following his. As if sensing their eyes on her the blonde looks up and spots them looking at her. Blushing she quickly returns her attentions to her book. His sister's lips quirk in a smirk. “I'd say right on schedule.”

 

“My, she is a comely thing isn't she,” he observes. Indeed he might have targeted her for himself had circumstances been different.

 

Kathryn opens her mouth to reply, but whatever she's going to say dies on her tongue when a nearby scene distracts her. Bunny Caldwell, the tight ass, new-moneyed socialite and her freshman daughter were currently in the middle of a not very discreet spat. They were currently drawing the attention of a few guests.

 

“M-om!” The girl, who's name escaped him, had a shrill whine that cut through his ears like glass. With her arms crossed to her chest and the scowl on her face she rather resembled a screaming brat at Toys R'Us. Practically stomping her feet she exclaimed, “You're ruining my life!”

 

“Well I created that life! I can do whatever I choose fit with it!” Caldwell hisses back. Noticing the curious eyeballs on them she let's out a tiny, fake laugh, forcing a smile as she tells her daughter, “We'll discuss this later Cecile.”

 

Running a hand through her stiff bob Bunny glides back into the party leaving her daughter to pout on the sidelines. Sebastian considered the girl. She was clearly completely socially inept and a total brat, but possibly not without charm. Dressed in a mini skirt, flats and an absolutely ridiculous, koala bear shirt stretched over her non-existent chest, she looked all of twelve years old. but Sebastian would bet money she was at least fourteen. However, it wasn't young Cecile that interested him so much as her mother.

 

It wasn't sexual, Sebastian wasn't really into necrophilia. It was her blatant desperation that got his attention. She was so eager to be accepted by these affluent vultures it was pathetic.

 

It was also perfect for his plan.

 

His interest must have shown all over his face as Kathryn leaned in and wickedly observed, “Well, it looks like you've found your _dick_ Valmont.”

 

He smiles blandly as she plucks the drink from his hand then saunters off, leaving only a vague lingering scent of her perfume.

 

Sebastian finally leaves his spot at the tree and crosses over to the party. Snatching a pink rose from one of the center pieces he circles around until he's standing directly behind his prey, currently slumped over on a bench. He taps her shoulder with the rose and when she turns he quickly steps out of view and plants himself directly beside her. Turning back Cecile jumps just slightly at his presence.

 

Sebastian smiles, all teeth. Enter the big bad wolf.

 

“Well, hello there.”

 


	7. Like a Do Not Enter Sign

 

 

_**The only thing more satisfying than convincing someone to do what I want, is failing to persuade them on purpose. It's like a "Do Not Enter" sign, it just begs you to walk through the door**._

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Who was that you were talking to?”

 

Kathryn doesn't look up from the computer screen, but internally she smiles at the question, pleased the farm girl finally got up the nerve to ask it. Still she doesn't make it too easy for her.

 

“When?” she asks feigning distraction.

 

“At the party. That blond guy in the glasses.” Annette's striving for nonchalant and failing miserably. “Is he your boyfriend?”

 

They're tucked away in one of the sitting rooms of the main house. The faint sounds of the party still in progress fill the silence that's fallen between them as Kathryn is busy searching out social media sites for proof of her latest gift wrapped scandal: the pampered rich kids of the upper east side stealing from the dumb and famous, a la, _The Bling Ring_. The stories been done before of course, but tying it to Manchester should raise a few eyebrows and ruffle some feathers. Not to mention isolate the headmaster's daughter from her peers all the more.

 

The story however can wait.

 

Kathryn considers how to answer the question. She has a brief fleeting urge to tell her the truth, just to see her reaction. Not that she could label her relationship with Valmont as any one thing. In the end she simply says, “That was my stepbrother Sebastian.”

 

Her big blue eyes blink at her from across the room. “Oh.”

 

It's impossible to miss the implication in her voice.

 

Kathryn's lips twist into a sardonic smirk. “I take it by your tone you've heard of him?”

 

Annette, in the midst of perusing the bookshelf, shifts uncomfortably in her cheap heels. “Um, I may have heard a few stories.” She looks over her shoulder and adds, “I'm sure they're mostly exaggerated.”

 

“Afraid not.”

 

“You mean that stuff about him with the school nurse-

 

“All true.” Kathryn closes her laptop. “He's something of a legend on the upper east side.”

 

Annette turns the full force of her inquisitive gaze on her, leaning over the back of the couch that separates them. “You almost sound proud of him,” she accuses.

 

Kathryn let's the statement hang there for a long moment. She really does get an inordinate amount of pleasure unnerving the poor girl. When she finally speaks, her tone is just this side of mocking, “Don't be ridiculous. What would that say about me if I _approved_ of the things Sebastian has done?”

 

Annette flinches, obviously not sure if she's on the level or not. Before she can press further Kathryn continues, “Sebastian is a...complicated guy. He's quite brilliant actually, very well read. You'd probably like him a lot. Not that I recommend getting to know him.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Kathryn leans back in her chair and gives her a once over that leaves the blond blushing. “Let's just say Sebastian has a type and you fit the profile. He'd eat you alive little mouse.”

 

“I can hold my own,” she replies with a cool confidence that makes Kathryn smile in approval.

"Is that so?”

 

Annette lets out a long sigh as she crosses the room. “Look I've dealt with guys like Sebastian before, especially after that article came out. They all think their arrogant bad boy schtick is supposed to make he swoon or worse yet they see me as some angelic figure who's going to save them from themselves. I'm nobody's prize and I'm no one's savior.”

 

“Well said Hargrove.”

 

“I mean I know he's your brother-”

 

“Stepbrother actually,” she corrects, though she's not sure why. No one other than her cared about the distinction anymore. “I understand your feelings and I agree with you a hundred perfect. I suppose I just have a soft spot for him. The truth is, after my parents died, Sebastian is all I have left.”

 

At this point Kathryn has all but perfected the art of faking grief. The trembling lip, the pained, haunted stare. Shit, she could give a class in it. Annette reaches over and takes her hand, offering comfort. “I get it. When I lost my mom I was a wreck. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have my dad.”

 

Kathryn stares at her hand, then runs her thumb over her knuckles. She's doesn't imagine the slight tremble it elicits. _Hmm_.

 

Pulling her hand back she gets to her feet and strolls over to the window, keeping her back to Annette. Kathryn stares out at the bright green rolling lawn before them. “You know as bad as my brother might appear, there are guys at Manchester much worse.” An ugly memory from her past seeps unwanted into her brain. She sends it away with a brief shake of her head, adding bitterly, “Much, much worse.”

 

“Like who?”

 

She looks at her over her shoulder and pretends to hesitate. “Take our new student body president for example.”

 

“Wait, _Court Reynolds_?” Annette asks, appropriately skeptical. “My father hand picked him for that position. I seriously doubt he's _that_ bad a guy and even if he is, my dad would have seen through him. He's an excellent judge of character.”

 

All the good favor she's managed to gain with her this afternoon withers and dies with that statement. She had thought her little mouse was sharper than that. How disappointing.

 

“You're new here. You're still learning the ropes. Manchester isn't _Kansas_ ,” she hisses the word with obvious distaste. “People don't always show their true colors.”

 

Annette's back stiffens at the insinuation. “I'm not naive. I know how the world works.”

 

“Is that so?” Kathryn challenges. She holds her stare for a bit. She's mildly impressed and not at all surprised when the blonde doesn't wither under it. However as much as she might enjoy going toe to toe with her it won't get her anywhere. Abruptly she changes coarse. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you Annette,” she sighs, “It's just if you heard some of the stories about him...”

 

She leans in, now in investigative journalist mode. “Like what?”

 

“Court...he prefers young girls, innocent girls,” she explains.

 

Annette doesn't look convinced. “That's gross, but not really-

 

“He likes to _hurt_ them,” Kathryn states plainly.

 

She flinches, leans back, not prepared for that. “Hurt them how?”

 

Kathryn won't say the word. Never has. “Let's just say he doesn't like to take no for an answer.”

 

As expected Annette is appropriately horrified. “Oh my god...that's terrible. Why hasn't anyone reported him?”

 

She let's out a short, bitter laugh. “Why do you think? You know who his family is don't you? Do you honesty think anyone wants to go up against the son of a congressman and the grandson of a senator? The Reynolds are powerful people. They'd destroy anyone who got in their way.” Kathryn shakes her head, not needing to manufacture her disgust, “He has everyone fooled, including your father and the school board. If they had any idea what he was really like...”

 

“Then we have to expose him!” Annette is already rearing to go, hands fisted at her sides, ready for a fight. “He cannot keep getting away with this. I'll dig around, see what I can find-

 

“No!” Kathryn rushes towards, gripping her by the arms. It's a touch dramatic but the situation seems to warrant it. “Annette you can't.”

 

“Why not? If he's half as bad as you say we can't just let him go free? What if he hurts someone else? I couldn't have that on my conscience.”

 

Kathryn's a little surprised she's managed to turn the argument back around to being about her. Maybe little Annette was more of a narcissist then she seemed. “You can't write a story about Court. If you go after him his family would destroy you and _I_ couldn't live with that. Please Annette, think of your dad. They could get him fired or worse. Promise me you won't pursue Court. _Promise_!”

 

She's rather impressed by her own intensity. As expected Annette buys every word of it.

 

“Okay, I promise Kathryn.” Even as she says it however, Kathryn can see the wheels turning in her head, trying to figure out where to start first, what calls to make, probably already thinking up headlines. Good girl.

 

“Thank you Annette,” she sighs into her shoulder as they embrace. Then floral scent of her perfume and the gentle press of her full breasts against her own makes Kathryn want to dig her teeth into her soft flesh. She resists. For now.

 


	8. One Bite at a Time

_**That's how you devour a whale, one bite at a time** _

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Hey Valmont”

 

He's at the Union Club enjoying a cigar, a brandy and a first edition Steinbeck, when he looks up to find Court standing over him. Smug as ever, he's still dressed in his school uniform, clutching his school bag in one hand.

 

“Reynolds,” he greets him with a put upon sigh before turning back to his book.

 

Ignoring Sebastian's obvious dismissal he takes a seat in the leather club chair beside him and signals a waiter to fetch him a drink.

 

“It's nice to see you're keeping yourself busy. Tell me, what do you do with yourself all day now that you're a high school drop out?”

 

“Well, this afternoon I swung by your house and fucked your mom.” Looking up from his book he smiles broadly, “She says hi by the way.”

 

Court's eyes narrow just slightly at the jab. “How's that sister of yours? I saw her in the hall the other day. She's still a hot piece of ass. Perhaps I should call on her sometime.”

 

Refusing to allow himself to be baited into anything, Sebastian returns his attentions to his book, telling him dryly, “I wouldn't recommend it. She's starting to develop a passion for fire arms.”

 

Reynolds gives a non-committal hum. The porter comes around with his drink and a humidor and as Court makes his selection Valmont silently studies him. He can't be sure why he's chosen to grace him with his presence, but Sebastian supposes it will save him from seeking him out later.

 

The truth was, for as much as Sebastian loathed Court, the feeling was very, very mutual and for good reason. Sophomore year when Court developed a cold sore Valmont told everyone it was herpes and no girl would go near him for six months. Later that summer he fucked his mother Annaleigh. In his bed. Torturing Court has always been something of a hobby of his ever since that incident with Kathryn. None of his stupid shenanigans really made up for what he did to her, but it was amusing none the less.

 

Still, they would all pale in comparison to what was coming next.

 

Lighting up a cuban Court mused, “You know it's a shame you'll no longer be attending Manchester, Valmont. There's some class A pussy on the market this semester.”

 

Class A pussy? How charming. Sebastian at his most depraved wasn't that obnoxious.

 

“Reynolds,” he sighs, drawing out the syllables in his name. “Even when I was a student at Manchester, I barely attended classes and yet I still managed to get my dick wet more than you.”

 

He rolls his eyes, blowing a smoke ring up to the ceiling. “Well you do have to admit I now have the home court advantage.”

 

“And while I agree you do need _every_ advantage you can get it still changes nothing. I could get any girl in that place, whether I'm in third period or Timbuktu.”

 

Court let's out short humorless laugh. “Face in asshole, you're no longer the campus stud. Your reign is over Valmont.”

 

Dropping his book, now long forgotten, he shifts his long legs, to face his adversary. “Care to make a wager on that?”

 

Reynolds gaze flickers with interest. “What did you have in mind?”

 

Sebastian shrugs elegantly, as if he's just pulling this out of his ass and it's not all part of a perfectly laid out scheme. “I pick a girl. Which ever one of us gets to her first, wins.”

 

“Wins what?”

 

“How about...my jag versus your vet?”

 

Sebastian has zero interest in his over priced piece of shit car, but it sounds good and he's thinking on his feet for this part. Besides, he knows Reynolds has always lusted after his car, like it was the fucking batmobile or something. Sure enough the offer is enough to make him sit up a little straighter.

 

“Your jag, seriously?”

 

“I take it you're interested,” she drawls.

 

He of course strives for nonchalant but fails miserably. “I could be. Who's the chick?”

 

Rising up from his seat, Sebastian walks over to the edge of the room. Leaning against the doorway he stares across the way at the club's favorite dinning room. When he spots them he nearly laughs out loud at the coincidence. It was almost as if the gods themselves wanted this plan to come to fruition.

 

While he sizes up his prey, Reynolds comes up beside him, listing off various girls in their social circle in contention. Sebastian waves them off. “No, no, too slutty, too boring. I have someone much more interesting in mind.”

 

“Who?”

 

“ _Her_ ”

 

Reynolds follows his gaze. His brows knit together in apprehension. “Cecile Caldwell? She's a little young isn't she?”

 

“Since when has that ever stopped you?” Valmont tosses back. It was a widely known secret Reynolds preferred underage snatch. Last summer he got in a spot of trouble when he got caught hooking up with an eighth grader. Of course his parents made the incident go away before the general public could be the wiser. The right people knew however. That was enough.

 

Given the way he was eying the young girl, he was obviously interested, but none the less he protested, “I don't know man. After that whole thing with Lydia, my parents have been after me to toe the line with that shit.”

 

“She's fifteen,” Sebastian assures him. “No one will care, especially that mother of hers.” All three Caldwell's were currently at dinner, but clearly Bunny was dominating the conversation while her husband tried to get a word in edge wise and Cecile listlessly pushed around her food on her plate. “Hell she'll probably hand over the rubber herself.”

 

“She won't let _you_ anywhere near her, that's for damn sure.”

 

He grinned wolfishly. “We'll see about that. So, are you in or are you out?”

 

By this point Reynolds was practically salivating over the young waif. A slow smile crept across his smug face. “Shit man, I'm in.” Extending his hand they shook and the creep laughed, “In more ways than one.”

 

“You better hope so.”

 

Court clamped a hand on his back. “I'm going to go introduce myself. If I were you I'd go enjoy that sweet ride of yours while you still can.”

 

With one last arrogant grin, he headed for the dining room, completely oblivious to the fact that he just sighed his own death warrant. Sebastian allowed himself a smile before calling out to him,

 

“Happy hunting Court”

 

He doesn't seem to hear him as he makes his way into the restaurant and approaches the Caldwells. Sebastian pulls out his cell and dials his stepsister.

 

“Well?” she asks by way of greeting.

 

“He took the bait”

 

“Of course he did.”

 

He watches as Bunny introduces Court to her daughter. Cecile looks up at him all doe-eyed innocent. “We're half way there sis,” he observes.

 

“Good work Valmont,” she purrs, “Now get home. _I'm famished_.”

 


	9. Cut it Out

**_Seduce him. Give him your heart. Cut it out and put it in his fucking hands._ **

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sometimes Annette forgets how intimidating Kathryn can be. Sure, she sees her in the halls, observes the way people behave around her. The students who hang on her every word, the adults who sit up a little straighter in her presence. However, when it's just them, and she's helping her break a story or making her laugh, Kathryn can be so warm and tangible. Almost like she's known her all her life.

 

Then when she asks her over to her house Annette remembers: Kathryn is from an entirely different world. Manchester is filled with rich kids, but Kathryn's wealth is on another level. She lives in a mansion on fifth avenue. Beautiful and sprawling it has its own elevator, servants and views of the park. She gets lost trying to find her bedroom.

 

Annette cuts through the parlor, stopping momentarily to marvel at the famous art on display. She’s fairly confident she's on the right path when she opens a door to discover she took a wrong turn.

 

Very wrong.

 

It's a bedroom all right, but it's definitely not Kathryn's. She’d ask the people currently occupying the room for directions but they appear preoccupied at the moment. Having sex.

 

“Oh my god,” she gasps upon stumbling in on the withering naked bodies sprawled out in the middle of the bed.

 

Contrary to public belief she's not completely innocent. She has seen a porno before. Well, clips of one anyway. She was as curious as anyone else. However, seeing a brief video of something was one thing, but viewing it up close and personal was totally different. And totally embarrassing.

 

Even still she is like a deer in the headlights, unable to do anything but gawk.

 

She doesn’t see who the girl is, the angle only allowed her to see she is a slender brunette, but the guy she recognizes immediately. It is Sebastian Valmont, Kathryn's brother. He is hovering over the girl, one arm braced on the foot board, the other on the mattress as he thrusts rapidly inside her, the bed squeaking loudly with their movements. He is naked and sweaty and _not_ unattractive.

 

“Can I help you with something?” he asks, voice warmly amused. He doesn't break stride.

 

Annette flinches at being caught. “I-I--” she stammers, “I’m looking for Kathryn.”

 

“Try across the hall.”

 

She quickly spins around, nearly colliding with the wall before dashing out the door only for him to call her back. “Oh sweetheart? Close the door.”

 

Annette turns, fumbles for the handle, then mostly on accident she makes eye contact with him. His eyes appear almost black and the way he looks at her, like he can see right through her, causes a unfamiliar heat to gather in her belly.

 

Annette backs out of the room and promptly shuts the door. Still, clutching the brass handle, she suddenly can’t catch her breath. She can hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, her face is flushed, her skin feels hot. Try as she might she can’t shake the image of what she just witnessed out of her head.

 

Oh god, she realizes with quiet horror, was she turned on?

 

Just as quickly as the thought comes, she shakes it off and instead chalks up her reaction to embarrassment. Eager to flee the debauchery she escapes into the bedroom across the hall, only to find herself stumbling into yet another minefield. Kathryn is in the midst of changing when she throws open the door. God, she was like Alice wandering into the naughty parts of wonderland.

 

Kathryn’s standing with her back to her, pinning her hair up. She’s completely naked and Annette just stands there gawking like a fish, unable to move or say anything.

 

“Is that you little mouse?” Kathryn calls out, her voice as always somewhere between condescension and amusement.

 

Shaking off her stupor, she quickly looks away. “Y-yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just barge in.”

 

“It’s fine. I was just getting ready to take a bath.”

 

Annette pretends to be immersed in the paltry selection of literature loitering on her no doubt decorative desk as Kathryn slips into a black silk robe and flounces over to the bed. The room is ridiculously beautiful. Everything about it screams expensive, from the heavy silk draperies, to the crystal chandelier to the Central Park views. It was worlds away from Annette’s own floral print bedroom littered with her childhood stuffed animals. This was an _adult_ room. Standing amongst all the sophistication, Annette feels positively juvenile in her school uniform, her worn satchel hanging pathetically over her shoulder.

 

“You’re late,” Kathryn states, picking up a magazine and carelessly flipping through it.

 

“I know. I’m sorry. A meeting at the paper ran late.” Usually when Kathryn uses that haughty tone with her Annette throws it right back at her, but the experiences of the last few minutes have left her feeling ill at ease.

 

Kathryn looks up from her magazine a moment, studying her then returns to her periodical. “Something wrong?”

 

Annette hesitates. “Um, I kind of, walked in on your brother.”

 

Her mouth twitches. “I take it by that color in your cheeks he was entertaining?”

 

A brief pornographic image of Sebastian’s thrusting ass, flashes in her mind, followed by his leering look. She quickly pushes the thought away. “So embarrassing,” she mutters.

 

“I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure the perv got off on it.”

 

Somehow that doesn’t make her feel better.

 

Kathryn sets her magazine aside and once again turns her inquisitive gaze on her and Annette shifts uncomfortably under her stare. “So did you like it?”

 

She gapes at her, shocked by the suggestion before quickly replying with an appropriate amount of outrage. “No! Of course not.”

 

Kathryn’s mouth curves into a knowing grin. “I think the lady doth protest too much.”

 

Annette rolls her eyes, stepping further into the room. She isn’t sure whether to sit at the Queen Anne sofa against the window or next to Kathryn on the bed. In the end the decision is made for her when the brunette tugs her down. “Sit,” she orders.

 

She rolls her eyes at the command, but complies, sitting further back on the bed. The alcove is more roomy than she expected. It’s all rich silks and satins with a mini chandelier hanging over head and it smells like Kathryn. Annette has the sudden urge to lay across it and wither against it like a cat. Instead she remains prone upright while Kathryn sizes her up.

 

“He’s quite cute you know.”

 

“Who?” The front of Kathryn’s robe is hanging low and her left breast is in danger of being exposed. Annette keeps her eyes trained on her face.

 

“Sebastian.”

 

“I guess.” She flinches at her words when she realizes what she’s suggesting. “That’s an odd observation to make about your brother.”

 

“ _Stepbrother_ and besides, I’ve known Sebastian for a long time. Much longer than we’ve been related.”

 

Wait was she saying they…she couldn’t mean…

 

“Not that I would ever dream of entertaining such notions,” she remarks off hand as if having read her mind. “You on the other hand…”

 

“I-I have a boyfriend,” Annette stammers before pulling herself together. Lips pursed, she states unequivocally, “Trevor.”

 

She thinks of Trevor, sitting in the grass on his grandfather’s farm as the breeze ruffles his sun kissed hair. His easy smile and gentle ways seem a million miles away from the minefields of Manhattan and boys like Sebastian Valmont.

 

“Something tells me we have different interests.”

 

“You mean sex?” Kathryn asks bluntly. “I read your manifesto. So, that was on the level?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“That’s a shame.”

 

Annette feels that same tightening in her shoulders she gets when she feels her beliefs being challenged, but coming from Kathryn it’s dulled somehow. Her righteous indignation doesn’t burn as bright as it once did.

 

More out of habit she finds herself arguing, “Is there something wrong with having morals and strong convictions?”

 

“Of course not, but how can you criticize something you’ve never experienced?”

 

Annette flinches, leaning in. “I wasn’t criticizing anything. It’s just my belief that people shouldn’t experience the act of love until they are in love and people our age just aren’t mature enough to handle those kinds of emotions.”

 

“ _The act of love_?” Kathryn laughs. “Good God, don’t be so puritanical. It’s just sex Annette. It doesn’t have to be that serious.”

 

“Yeah, but shouldn’t it be?”

 

“Not necessarily.”

 

Annette had assumed Kathryn wasn’t a virgin. Even though it went against her image at school, everything about her from the way she moved to the way she spoke screamed experience. She is so mature and worldly, it is like Annette’s conversing with an adult half the time. Spouting off about her admittedly priggish opinions, she feels childish and outmatched. It is the first time she could ever remember being _embarrassed_ about her beliefs.

 

“Look all I’m saying is that sex doesn’t always have to be about love. Sometimes, it can just be about two people connecting in the moment. You know what I mean?”

 

Annette’s gaze unconsciously lingers on Kathryn’s pout. “I think so,” she murmurs, swallowing uneasily.

 

Scooting closer, Kathryn casually touches Annette’s hand. “Can I give you some advice?”

 

“Could I stop you?” she laughs, attempting to inject some levity.

 

“Don’t place limits on your life. If you do, you risk missing out on some memorable, possibly life altering events.”

 

“Such as?”

 

Annette sees her lean in, realizes what she intends to do but she doesn’t stop it, doesn’t back away. She just lets it happen. Nothing about Kathryn’s kiss is tentative. It’s like the girl herself—confident, experienced and mysterious. Annette is too stunned to really reciprocate much. When Kathryn touches her bare knee there’s a sudden rush of heat between her legs, one she’s never really felt before or at least not this strong. Immediately she jumps back.

 

Gawking at her, Annette feels flushed all over and confused. Kathryn as always appears completely unruffled.

 

“Why did you do that?”

 

“Because you wanted me to,” Kathryn states plainly.

 

Annette flinches at the accusation, then bolts out of the bed. Was she sending her some sort of signal? Did she think she was gay?

 

“I-I’m not—“

 

“Neither am I,” Kathryn replies, sounding amused. “But like I said before, I don’t believe in limiting myself. I thought we were of the same mind in that regard.”

 

“I have a boyfriend,” she repeats again, rather lamely.

 

Kathryn shifts on the bed, rising to her knees so they are at eye level, her robe falling open, nearly exposing her breasts. Annette quickly looks away. “Relax, I’m not asking for your hand in marriage little mouse. It was just a kiss. A nice kiss. Don’t you agree?”

 

Annette’s not sure. Her mind is going off in a million directions and she can’t process anything that’s happening let alone _that_. But as far as kisses go it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all.

 

“I-I have to go,” she stammers, gripping the strap of her satchel tightly. “I can’t be here.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Looking her dead in the eye she replies, “Because I don’t trust myself around you.”

 

And that just might be the most honest thing she’s ever said to her. Ever since she’s gotten involved with Kathryn, Annette has found herself changing. Before she never cared what anyone thought of her. The only person’s whose opinion she truly valued (outside of her father of course) is her own. But lately she’s been making little compromises. Doing things, behaving in ways she normally wouldn’t just on the off chance of impressing Kathryn and that is distressing. Annette isn’t that girl or at least she didn’t use to be.

 

Rather than take offense to her remark, as any rational human would, Kathryn instead seems amused. Sliding her arms around her neck she laughed lightly. “I’m flattered.”

 

“You’re mocking me,” Annette huffs.

 

“Just a little. You need to get out of your head for a little while and climb down off your high horse. I’m just trying to help you.”

 

“How noble,” Annette replies sarcastically. She gives a halfhearted effort to pull out of her hold. “I need to leave.”

 

“So you keep saying, yet here you stand.” Kathryn tugs her a little closer, leaving her mouth just centimeters from her own. Annette remembers how soft her lips felt against her own and suddenly she is itching to feel it again even though her brain was screaming at her that this was wrong. For so many reasons.

 

“Kathryn,” she sighs.

 

“Enough talking. Come on Hargrove, grow a pair.”

 

Annette bristles at her words and really she has every intention of storming out of there, but then Kathryn starts kissing her again. She whimpers against her lips, squirms against her embrace. She didn’t want this, she _didn’t_.

 

Except, all right, maybe she kind of did.

 

She finds herself, almost not of her own accord, kissing her back. She feels as if she is being possessed, as if has no control of her own body. Annette’s hands settle on Kathryn’s waist, pressing tightly against her silk robe. When Kathryn coaxes her mouth open, she doesn’t object and when she pulls her down into the bed she goes willingly.

 

As Kathryn’s hand makes its way under her skirt, Annette wonders when she became the sort of girl who could be talked into things.

 


	10. More Than Sharks Love Blood

**_I love that woman. I love her more than sharks love blood._ **

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Get your ass in the bed,” Sebastian growls, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him and stalking over to his stepsister.

 

Sprawled lazily across his newly upholstered loveseat, Kathryn looks up from her tablet only long enough to cock an eyebrow at the command. “Lunch with the lawyer went well I take it?”

 

“It was bullshit. The man is completely useless,” he sneers, words clipped and haughty as he tugs irritably at this tie. “Not to mention the foie gras was completely inedible.”

 

“Poor baby.”

 

“I need a new lawyer.”

 

“It won’t matter,” she sighs, bored with the same argument. “They all tell you the same thing. The will and its ridiculous stipulations are iron clad. You know this.”

 

Yes, he does know this, but all the same it does nothing to alleviate his aggravation with the situation. Lunch left him feeling impotent and restless. Sebastian despises feeling helpless. The only sure solution to such a mood was an energetic fuck. Unfortunately for him, his sister got far too much pleasure being a bitch.

 

“Get. Up.”

 

Kathryn sighs, swiping left on her tablet with a dramatic swoosh of her finger. “That sounds an awful lot like an order.”

 

“I will take you on this sofa if need be.”

 

“But then you’d only have to get it reupholstered again.” She smiles tauntingly before shooting a look to his crotch. “You really do have atrocious aim.”

 

Jesus fucking Christ. Why did everything have to be so difficult with her?

 

They stare each other down for one long heated moment, before finally Sebastian’s inpatients get the better of him. Grabbing his stepsister by the wrist, he yanks her to her feet. Kathryn stumbles a little in her heels, causing the tablet to fall from her hand. Ignoring it, along with her irritated huffs of protest, he shoves her arm behind her back then kisses her. Hard.

 

As much as Sebastian enjoys playing with her like this, there’s always a slight echo of guilt. Knowing the things she has endured at the hands of other boys, he sometimes hesitates to push her too hard. Before he even has a chance to second guess himself, Kathryn is kissing him back with equal aggression, her tongue thrusting against his, her tits pressed tight to his chest. The tease wasn’t wearing a bra.

 

When she pulls back, her lipstick has been kissed off, her eyes are glassy. “Ask nicely,” she orders.

 

“No,” he growls back, squeezing her wrist for emphasis.

 

Kathryn leans into him, nips at his lower lip, then yanks herself free of his grip. He turns and watches as she starts to stalk away, unsure if she’ll do as he asks or walk out. With her, it could go either way.

 

When she heads to the door, he’s about to call out some creative insult, but then he hears the tell-tale click of the lock and his sneer morphs into a smirk. “Don’t look so smug Valmont,” Kathryn chides, not even looking at him as she removes her earrings, “You’re not the only one looking to take the edge off. I’m going to need you to be particularly brutal.”

 

Sebastian shrugs out of his jacket, removes his tie. “Well, you’re well aware that’s my specialty.”

 

He is curious what has put his dear sis on edge. He has a few ideas, but holds his tongue. For now.

 

Instead he’s content to observe her from across the bed as she sheds her clothes, a display that is all the more erotic for its lack of pretense. Sebastian thinks of all the sluts and innocents he’s bedded over the years and shutters at some of the strip teases he’s been privy to. So much artificial sexiness. If he wanted _that_ he’d head to his favorite titty bar in midtown thank you very much.

 

Of course seeing her like this only brings to mind their first time. It had been in this very room. Right after they buried their parents. It wasn’t as morbid as it sounds. Then again, maybe it was.

 

They had been sitting in contemplative quiet, drinking bourbon, her on the bed, him standing at the threshold of the balcony, when she got up and without any warning, kissed him. Kathryn had done this before of course, usually when she was drunk or high or just looking to keep him in line and under her thumb. That usually involved slow, tantalizing kisses, meant to entice, but not satisfy. This had been different. This had been _ferocious_.

 

Sebastian didn’t know what prompted it and he didn’t much care.

 

(This is a lie he tells himself when he fears he’s falling too far under her spell, for he has spent hours over analyzing that moment and what led up to it, detailing every moment of it in his journal like an adolescent girl. When contemplating her motives, he has considered grief (snicker) before settling on defiance. After all what better way to desecrate her mother’s memory than to fuck someone the bitch truly loathed. Apparently, there’s more than one way to piss on a grave.)

 

Sebastian had taken her on the bed, going down on her only to become increasingly paranoid that she’d leave him high and dry. He hadn’t worry. Before he could even make her cum, Kathryn dug her talons into his shoulder and dragged him up to be mounted. It hadn’t been an elegant fuck, but it was passionate, and hungry, and long overdue.

 

After that day, their coupling had become a fairly regular occurrence. At first they were brazen – storage closets at school, the bathroom at the club, hell even the living room in front of the servants, but after the events with his aunt their fucking was relegated to the bedroom, behind carefully locked doors and shut blinds. Sebastian didn't much care about logistics, so long as he got her in the end.

 

Now naked, his cock rock hard and ready to conquer, he drinks Kathryn in, from the top of her expensive salon blow out to her perfectly waxed porno pussy. It’s times like these when Sebastian’s tempted to slip into sentimentalities, but as always he holds back. There’s no room for that here. There has never been anything particularly romantic about their coupling. It was visceral, passionate, sometimes verging on violent. Just like them.

 

Kathryn crawls across the bed to him. Not submissive, but cat like, slinky and predatory. She goes for his dick, teasing it with her tongue, tracing the veins on the underside, sucking his balls. He could cum from this easily, but that’s not what he’s after today. He didn’t want easy.

 

Instead he grabs her by the hair and bends her over like a rag doll. She complies, letting him position her how he pleases. Sebastian doesn’t even finger her twat before pushing into her with one violent thrust. Kathryn whines, falling to her elbows as she surges forward. She’s wet and tight and oh so welcoming. He fucks her hard.

 

Sebastian loves taking her like this, the dominate nature of the position just hits all the right buttons for him, but at the same time he longs to see her face. With all her various masks, Kathryn was good at keeping him guessing, except that is, in bed. She never could hide her pleasure and he wanted to see it.

 

Grabbing a fistful of her hair he yanks her head back, forcing her gaze on the mirror across from the bed. Sebastian leans in close and hisses, “Watch.”

 

“Freak,” she huffs, her attitude in sharp contrast to the desperate look of need in her eyes. He’s not at all surprised when she enthusiastically bucks her hips against him.

 

The room quickly fills with the carnal sounds of their mating: panting, breathy moans mixed with the crude echo of their flesh coming together. With some lovers, Sebastian likes to play music while they fuck to drown out all those irritating distractions. Kathryn, as always was the exception. He loved the sound of her broken whimpers and hushed curses.

 

But of course he can’t let on to any of that, so instead he distracts himself and her.

 

“How are things coming with the Hargrove bitch?” Sebastian grunts, fingers digging possessively into her hips when the name of his stepsisters latest victim passes his lips.

 

“Right…on…schedule,” she huffs out with every thrust.

 

“Fuck her yet?”

 

He slaps her ass, she bucks harder.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

 

“ _Yes_ , I would.” Sebastian leers at her reflection. “I can picture it now. You sixty-nining the shit out of that Jesus freak. Her blond bush grinding up against your naked, wet little cunt—“

 

“Been jerking off to that one brother dear?”

 

“Of course,” he replies, not missing a beat. He speeds up. “I bet she would love getting pounded by that strap on of yours.”

 

Kathryn tosses her hair out of her face and lets out a husky laugh. “You sure seemed to enjoyed it.”

 

Sebastian pauses, leans over her and nips playfully at her shoulder before murmuring in her ear, “You got me there.”

 

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Kathryn uses the opportunity to knock him backwards. They fall into an inelegant tumble on the bed, struggling for dominance in-between sharp, aggressive kisses. It’s more out of curiosity than anything else that Sebastian cedes control over to her. If their relationship has taught him anything over the years, it’s that it was best to let her win one once in a while, even if it’s to the detriment to his pride.

 

Laughing, she straddles him and guides him back inside. There’s something so appealing about the warmth in her face at that moment that Sebastian swears he would go to the ends of the earth just to make her happy. He would do anything for her.

 

Christ, when did he start sounding like an 80’s power ballad?

 

Shaking off the though, Sebastian picks up their earlier conversation, as Kathryn rides him into the mattress.

 

“I do believe I’m detecting some unchanneled aggression on your end sis,” he taunts, his hands molding around her jiggling tits.

 

“What are you babbling on about?” she pants, working her hips harder while her nails dig into his chest.

 

“Don’t play dumb. You’re more aggressive than normal today. You haven’t sealed the deal with her yet, have you?”

 

Kathryn’s eyes narrow at the question, but she didn’t stop fucking him. He stares her down and after a solid minute she finally breaks. “Not exactly.”

 

Tossing his head back against the pillow, Sebastian let out a sharp laugh. “I knew it! I knew you hadn’t nailed her.”

 

“I practically have! It’s just every time I get between her legs she starts freaking out…”

 

Still laughing he teases, “Welcome to blue ball hell sis. Now you know how I felt all those years enduring your cockteasing bullshit. Karma is real.”

 

She leans over him and rakes her teeth over his collarbone, drawing a whimper from him. “You got yours,” she murmurs, voice low and raw, “And I’ll get mine. Just give me time.”

 

The hungry, determined look in her eyes is nearly enough to send his toppling over the edge. Trying to focus, he remarks, voice shaky, “You sound confident. Still think you can pull this off?”

 

“Of course. Everything’s going to plan.” Kathryn takes his hand and sucks on his finger a moment before guiding his hand to her backside. “And you know how I get when a plan comes together Valmont,” she coos, as she shoves his finger into her ass. Sebastian groans, more from surprise than anything else.

 

_So tight. God why won’t she let him just…_

 

“It makes me so horny,” she taunts, all breathy and glassy eyed and fucking smirking. He never understands why this overconfidence of hers turns him on so much.

 

And before he even realizes it’s happening, Sebastian’s thinking about what she won’t let him have and how she’ll look when he gives it to her, and suddenly he’s coming.

 

_Shit shit shit shit shit!_

He doesn’t even get a chance to enjoy it as he’s too busy drowning in embarrassment and dread. If there was one golden rule to their fucking it’s this: Kathryn always comes first. No question.

 

This would not end well. Unless he got ahead of it.

 

Kathryn stops rocking atop his rapidly softening cock and looks down at him with unabashed horror. It might have been comical if he didn’t dread her taunting him over this for the rest of their life. It doesn’t take long for her shock to give way to fury.

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” she snarls, voice high and not terribly pleasant. “If you think—“

 

Before she can get her threat out, Sebastian’s dragging his stepsister up his body until she’s straddling his face. He proceeds to eat her hard and fast, licking up the cum he left behind as his ardent tongue fucks her pussy. By the end of it she’s mewling and shivering so hard he has to hold her down to keep from tumbling off the bed…which he probably should have let happen. Just to balance out the scales of embarrassment a little.

 

Kathryn comes quickly, leaving a sticky mess of girl cum all over his face that he doesn’t much mind at all. Sebastian continues to go at her until she physically has to stop him, pushing him away with shaky hands as she dismounts before collapsing opposite him in the bed. He observes her with great amusement and pride as she comes down from her high, naked and sweaty, her limbs still twitching in little aftershocks.

 

“Don’t look so proud of yourself asshole,” she grumbles, voice husky as she stares up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe you came first.”

 

Sebastian traces a finger over the curve of her ankle. “It’s not the destination that matters it’s the journey.”

 

Kathryn’s head shoots up at that. “Bullshit,” she declares before breaking into hysterical laughter.

 

He lets her revel in her amusement for a moment, but only a moment before his irritation gets the better of him. To shut her up he bites her ankle.

 

“OW!” Kathryn sits up abruptly, glaring at him. Sebastian looks back utterly unapologetic. Serves her right.

 

“Let’s get back to our earlier topic,” he says all business. Sebastian props himself up against the headboard then reaches for his silver cigarette case. “You need to lock things up with the Hargrove girl soon. My side of this should be taken care of by Saturday.”

 

Kathryn blinks at him in quiet understanding. “I assure you it won’t be a problem. Annette is extremely strong willed and smart, but not unmalleable. She’s already developing an unconscious need to win my approval.”

 

“Well I already pity her,” Sebastian snarks with open disdain around the cig in his mouth.

 

“There’s no need. She’s actually quite lovely, not to mention much more cultured and refined than I would have suspected given her station.”

 

There is a dreamy quality to her words as she speaks that sets Sebastian’s teeth on edge. Careful to keep any sort of emotion out of his tone he notes, “You like her.” Which is troublesome because Kathryn doesn’t like anyone. Sebastian swallows down his unease.

 

She blinks back at him, coming out of her thoughts then shrugs. “I suppose I do. Is that a problem?”

 

“Why would it be?” he replies with the same indifference. “Though, I suppose it does call your taste into question. I mean she wears _Old Navy_ for crying out loud. _In public_.”

 

Kathryn studies him quietly a moment before that Cheshire cat smile of hers breaks out. “You’re jealous,” she declares, “How wonderful!”

 

“Fuck. You.”

 

She’s laughing at him again as he sits up in a huff, putting his cigarette out. “I’m taking a shower.”

 

Kathryn pulls him back before he can leave the bed. “Don’t pout. I think I’ve earned taunting rights after what you put me through last summer with the Rochester girl.” Nuzzling against him she murmurs, “You know how I detested her.”

 

He did which of course was why he had chosen her in the first place. Oh, how he had enjoyed rubbing that conquest in her nose. He had been rather a prick about it.

 

Anger deflating, he runs his fingers through her hair and says, “Just promise me you won’t get attached.”

 

“Never. This is too important.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

Kathryn kisses his jaw before pressing her face to his shoulder. Their earlier amusement and petty concerns melt away as the reality of what is to come lingers like a dark ominous cloud. Sebastian finds himself at once anxious but also eager for the games to begin.

 

“So, Saturday?” Kathryn says, voice small and hesitant. “Everything’s in place?”

 

“Yes.” When she releases an uneasy breath, he turns his head to look at her. “Having second thoughts?”

 

She reaches for him, taking his face in both hands before drawing him into a kiss. It was the sort of kiss that reminds him that Kathryn has the power to completely overwhelm him when she so chooses. He kisses her back with equal fervency but somehow he wonders if he has quite the same effect on her that she has on him.

 

By the time they break away he’s half hard and ready for round two.

 

“Does that answer your question?”

 

Pulling her back into bed, he’s nearly completely forgotten what they were talking about. It doesn't matter. Whatever it was, it could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to sfstewart for the edit


	11. They Stack So Well

**_You know what I like about people? They stack so well._ **

 

 

 

 

“Have my car ready for me tomorrow morning. Nine am sharp.”

 

“Who is this?”

 

Sebastian knows who it is of course, he can tell by that insufferable smug tone that grates on the nerves. However, he has always taken immense pleasure in reminding Court of his insignificance and he really sees no reason in ending that now.

 

“It’s Reynolds you asshole,” he huffs over the receiver. “I thought you’d like to know I’m on my way to winning our bet.”

 

Sebastian’s tempted to ask, what bet? But he figures that might be pushing his indifference too far. Instead he musters up a bored, “Oh, how’s that?”

 

 “Well I’m out with our girl right now and tonight’s the night.”

 

Rolling his eyes, he pushes off the desk he has been leaning against and strolls across the bedroom. As he gazes around at the homoerotic black and white photos littering the walls, he absently wonders why Reynolds insists on speaking like a douchebag villain from a teen movie. It’s all kinds of annoying.

 

“Is that a fact? What are you going to do Reynolds, pop her cherry in the back of your vet? Should make for a memorable first time.”

 

“I was thinking more along the lines of one of Tuttle’s guest rooms. We’re at his party.”

 

“What party?”

 

“Didn’t you know?” he asks with obvious delight. “Tuttle’s throwing one of his infamous bashes. Strange you didn’t hear about it, what with you and that fag being butt buddies and all. I guess you’re no longer in the loop now that you’re finished at Manchester. Tragic.”

 

Sebastian says nothing for a moment, content to make the idiot believe his words actually had the power to affect him. It was always a good idea to encourage one’s target into thinking they held the upper hand. Confidence tended to make people sloppy.

 

“Yes, well, regardless it’s still not going to happen. I have it on good authority our young Miss Caldwell is smitten with someone else.”

 

“Who? That black music teacher? Yeah, that’s going to happen,” Court sneers sarcastically. “Bunny Caldwell won’t even hire a Dominican to clean her toilet. I highly doubt she’s going to allow a member of the NAACP to fuck her daughter. Face it Valmont, you lost. You mine as well hand over my prize now.”

 

Sebastian flops down onto the bed, only half listening to Court’s crowing. His attention is riveted to the rigid line of stepsister’s bare back. She is tense.

 

“I still say you’re overplaying your hand,” he sighs, not having to fake his boredom. “You won’t get that girl in bed tonight. Not willingly at least.”

 

“Well I don’t recall consent being a stipulation of our deal.”

 

“Don’t be gross Reynolds, she’s _fifteen_.”

 

“Don’t be a pussy Valmont. You can’t tell me all those girls you’ve lured into your bed went willingly.”

 

Not exactly, but he also never stooped to Court’s tactics. Sure coercion and blackmail may have factored in on occasion, but he drew the line at physical force. Even he had his limits.

 

“Some lines aren’t worth crossing,” he tells him, looking for any sign of discomfort from Kathryn, but her expression was blank. She remained still as a statue except for her eyes that shifted back and forth between the three closed circuit televisions in front of her.

 

“Well how terribly noble of you. Fortunately for me I have no such hang ups. Now I have to go but remember what I said, nine am sharp.”

 

He hangs up before Sebastian can get the last word. Asshole.

 

“Well?” Kathryn asks, voice almost robotic.

 

Tossing his phone away he gets to his feet. “Right where we want him, overconfident and desperate to beat me.”

 

“Sounds like a winning combination.”

 

Sebastian comes up behind her, slips his hands on to her shoulders and gently kneads her tense muscles. Kathryn relaxes under his touch, sinking further into the metal arm chair. “Where is he?” he asks, gaze searching the three monitors in front of them.

 

With a few strokes of the keyboard, Kathryn zeroes in on the middle monitor. “Here.”

 

The black and white picture pushes in on a smug Court, standing beside a bewildered looking Cecile, who’s wide eyes appeared to be drinking in all the teenage debauchery surrounding them. Blaine’s parties are infamous for a reason. Sebastian was almost a little disappointed he wasn’t attending in person.

 

“She looks bored,” Kathryn notes.

 

“Must be his sparkling wit,” he dryly replies. “How did you stand it?”

 

“I was young…younger than her even.” It’s impossible to miss the sad undercurrent of her tone. Not for the first-time Sebastian imagines cracking open Reynolds skull.

 

“Ow!”

 

He quickly retracts his hands when he realizes his gentle massage had turned into a near strangle hold. Kathryn shoots him an annoyed look over her shoulder. Sebastian plays it off with his usual asshole smile as if he meant to do it, then walked around to lean against the desk so he could study her face. “You know you don’t have to be here for this. In fact, you probably _shouldn’t_ be.”

 

“On the contrary,” she replies coolly, rolling her shoulders back. “This is exactly where I should be. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. His destruction will be my crowning achievement.”

 

Sebastian opens his mouth to argue when they’re interrupted.

 

“Never let it be said Merteuil, that you don’t have a flare for the melodramatic,” Blaine drawls in his usual effeminate inflection as he comes sailing through his bedroom door, looking completely ridiculous in a silver smoking jacket and satin pajama bottoms. Trailing behind him is a sheepish looking Greg McConnell.

 

“Suck my dick,” Kathryn sneers, gaze back on the monitors.

 

“If only I could doll,” he retorts with a shark like grin, before cocking his head at his uncomfortable lover. “Come along Gregory, it’s rude to linger in doorways.”

 

The football stud reluctantly shuffles further into the room, his embarrassed gaze riveted to the floor. “Uh, I’ve got to go Blaine,” he mumbles.

 

“So soon? I was really looking forward to breaking in that new toy of mine.”

 

When the boy turns at least three different shades of red Sebastian almost feels sorry for him. Then he recalls how the closet case threatened to beat him up last year when he caught him messing around with is beard and he’s back to finding the whole thing hilarious again.

 

“Got to go,” he repeats, practically flying out the bedroom door. “I’ll, uh, see you around.”

 

Watching his swift retreat Sebastian drawls, “I thought you’d given up on high school closet cases.”

 

Blaine shrugs. “What can I say? The heart wants what the heart wants.”

 

Kathryn shoots him an incredulous look over her shoulder. “Heart?”

 

“Or cock. Save diff.”

 

“More like you’re waiting for the right price to sell him out,” she taunts.

 

Slipping in behind her, Blaine places his hands on her shoulders and gives them a squeeze but not in the sensual way he did earlier. There’s the slightest hint of menace in the gesture as the bleached blond coos, “Now Kitty Kat, you know I don’t traffic in information. If I did a gaybe jock would be small potatoes next to, I don’t know, let’s say proof that the upper east side Marcia Brady is actually a coke snorting sociopath whose fucked her way through half the borough. Don’t you agree?”

 

Kathryn smiles tightly at the subtle threat and wisely doesn’t threaten him back. Despite his appearance, Blaine was not to be trifled with and she knows it.

 

“Speaking of fucking,” Blaine sighs, dropping down into the chair beside her, “You two didn’t get all House Lannister on my bed, did you? I just had that duvet dry cleaned.”

 

“No I just went down on her,” Sebastian replies distracted, his gaze riveted to the events playing out on the monitor.

 

Blaine looks horrified. “Ugh, I’m charging you double for that.”

 

“It was worth it,” Kathryn remarks with a smug grin.

 

Before Tuttle can summon a reply, Sebastian intervenes. “It looks like the show is about to begin.”

 

The three of them watch the monitor as Court, with a proprietary hand on her back, guides Cecile through the throng of sweaty teenage bodies and up the staircase. Fear prickles at his neck as he shoots a look at the bedroom door, fearful they might stumble in.

 

“It has an automatic lock,” Tuttle explains, as he reaches over and strokes a few keys. Immediately the picture switches to an empty bedroom just in time to see the young couple stumble into it.

 

“Jesus Tuttle, do you have camera’s in every bedroom?” Kathryn huffs.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Perv”

 

“Lucky for you.”

 

The pair take a seat on the bed, talk for a little while before they start making out. It’s more than obvious Court is far more into it than she is.

 

“God straight sex is so boring,” Blaine sighs.

 

“Like you would know,” Kathryn retorts with little bite. Her gaze is riveted the events playing out on the screen.

 

After a few minutes of less than enthusiastic making out, Reynolds starts to guide her down on the bed. It doesn’t last long. Cecile pushes Court away and jumps to her feet. She starts for the door and he’s right on her heels. Grabbing her forcefully he spins her around. Even with no sound it’s clear she’s loudly protesting as she squirms in his grip. Court easily outweighs her by at least fifty pounds and the waif in no match for his strength. Still, even Sebastian flinches and shifts uncomfortably in his seat when he watches the asshole throw the sophomore to the bed. She frantically tries to escape until Court backhands her violently across the face.

 

Kathryn abruptly gets to her feet, the metal of the chair scrapping loudly on the hard wood floor as she does. “I have to go,” she announces tersely before heading for the door.

 

Sebastian is tempted to follow, but he knows one of them has to see this through. Kathryn pauses on the threshold of the room and looks back at him. “I’ll see you at home.”

 

He nods as she softly closes the door behind her. “Funny, I never took her for the squeamish sort,” Blaine remarks flippantly.

 

“She’s not,” Sebastian replies in a tone that suggests he better not tread any further down this road.

 

Out of the corner of his eye he senses Blaine watching him. “Shit. You’re in more trouble than I thought. I warned you not to start fucking her.”

 

“It was years too late Blaine.”

 

The subject was effectively dropped when a new player made their way onto the screen. Ronald Clifford enters the party, stopping to talk to a few people who point him to the second level. “Here comes our white knight,” Sebastian notes. “Just on schedule.”

 

It takes the young music teacher longer than Sebastian would have preferred to get to the bedroom. Court has already got a sobbing Cecile undressed and on her stomach as she tries unsuccessfully to fight him off. He watches everything unfold, trying not to picture Kathryn in her place but he can’t help it.

 

As if reading his mind Blaine remarks, “I must admit, I’m looking forward to seeing this asshole brought to his knees.”

 

“You shouldn’t have to wait long,” Sebastian remarks just as Ronald bursts into the room. He’s on top of Court is a second, throwing the startled boy to the ground and immediately laying into him with his fists. The beat down doesn’t last long, before Ronald staggers to his feet and guides a shaky Cecile out of the room.

 

Besides him, Blaine sighs, “Well that was rather anticlimactic.”

 

Sebastian swivels around to face him. “That my friend was only the appetizer.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s after two am when Sebastian arrives home. Crossing the dark parlor, he wonders briefly if his sister even made it home. The thought of her out trolling for dick left him uneasy. It wasn’t that he cared if she fucked other men (or so he tells himself) but given her state when she left that evening, he didn’t trust her not to get into some sort of trouble.

 

Standing outside her bedroom door he finds it closed which likely meant she was inside. Sebastian raises his hand to knock then hesitates, fearful she’d tell him to get lost. Shaking it off, he squares his shoulders and opens the door without preamble. The room was dark save for the light from her cigarette. As Sebastian approaches the bed he finds Kathryn huddled under the covers, smoking impassively.

 

“Well?”

 

“It’s done.” He holds up the flash drive as proof before shoving it back in his pants pocket.

Wordlessly he toes off his shoes and shrugs out of his jacket.

 

“I’m not really in the mood Valmont.”

 

“Yeah, neither am I,” he remarks, matching her indifferent tone. It’s a lie of course. He can still taste her pussy on his tongue and he’s seventeen so he’s pretty much always in the mood. However, he knows it’s not the time for that. He can just imagine the dark shit that’s kicking around that brain of hers after the events of the night. That said, even though he knows he likely won’t be getting sex he still can’t bear to leave her alone for the night.

 

Throwing the covers back in climbs into bed beside her. Sebastian removes the cigarette from between her fingers and takes a long drag before stubbing it out in the crystal ashtray. When Kathryn makes herself comfortable against him he has to stifle a groan. She’s wearing some sort of satiny negligee but it’s so thin she might as well be naked. He would have thought she was doing this on purpose, but then he notices the far off look in his eyes.

 

“Are you…” he doesn’t finish the question, wincing at the tone of his voice. He’s not really sure how to do this, be kind to her that is. Finally, he settles on a curt, “You shouldn’t have come tonight.”

 

She’s quiet for a beat before replying softly. “I know. I just wanted to prove I could, or something.”

 

“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

 

“Yeah,” she replies so softly he can barely hear it. When Kathryn rests her head on his chest he places a tentative arm around her shoulders. After a moment, he decides he doesn’t mind this so much.

 

“We’re half way home,” he whispers to her.

 

“Hmm. Think we’ll pull it off?”

 

Sebastian kisses the top of his stepsister’s head. “We don’t have a choice.”


	12. We All Destroy

**_We’re all ruthless, we all destroy. But corruption, that’s a matter of perspective._ **

 

 

By her eighteenth birthday, Annaleigh Beaumont Reynolds was the tenth richest woman in the United States. Heiress to a tobacco fortune, she moved up in the rankings to number seven upon her marriage to Garrett Reynolds, the youngest son of an old moneyed family with political aspirations. When her father-in-law became a senator and her husband a congressman five years later, she climbed two more spots thanks to heavy political leanings that assured that the tobacco business continued to boom.

 

When her only son inevitably takes his position in the upper echelons of power it will certainly, with proper strategy and leadership (two things Annaleigh excels at), push her into the top three.

 

It goes without saying that Kathryn considers it a great honor to be the one who will prevent Mrs. Annaleigh Beaumont Reynolds from reaching her illustrious goal. Annaleigh was, to put it kindly, a real cunt.

 

The beginning of the end of the Reynolds family’s political aspirations would take place that afternoon at a party thrown by their matriarch. The benefit luncheon was being held on behalf of the _American Ballet Theatre_ , but really it was just an excuse to day drink and gossip about who was currently fucking the help and who’s spoiled offspring was getting shipped off to rehab this week. Normally, Kathryn would revel in these sorts of shallow rituals, but today she is on a mission.

 

Gliding across the marble foyer of the Reynolds admittedly exquisite Park Avenue town house, Kathryn smiles prettily at the tight faced old women, clad in their respective Oscar de la Renta, smelling of Chanel and gin. They turn when she approaches, all eager to converse with the Upper East Side golden girl. Since her parents tragic passing Kathryn has made it a point to be more selective about which events she attends. Her presence that afternoon was a real ‘get’ for Annaleigh.

 

Kathryn circles the party, knowing it’s only a matter of time before the older woman hunts her down. Luckily for her, she doesn’t keep her waiting long.

 

“Oh, Kathryn I’m so glad you came!” Annaleigh sweeps in from out of nowhere and greets her with an air kiss. “Darling you look so lovely, as always. I must get the name of your dermatologist. Your skin is exquisite.”

 

Kathryn wants to respond with a snide, _it’s called being eighteen bitch_ , but instead coos back, “Thank you Annaleigh. You look beautiful. Is that Tom Ford?”

 

The older woman waxes on about her new fall wardrobe while Kathryn takes note of her obvious new face lift. She must admit Annaleigh is a beautiful woman and time has been kind to her, but clearly, she’s taken more than a few trips to that plastic surgeon in Palm Springs.

 

After a few minutes of bullshit small talk, she gets down to the nitty gritty. Clutching her hands, Annaleigh pulls her in close and asks gently, “Now darling, how are you? I mean _really_?”

 

Kathryn has to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the woman’s obvious phony sympathy. Everyone loves a good tragedy. Especially the rich.

 

Playing it up a little, she enacts the trembling hand and quivering lip, her go to move when people inquired about _how she was doing_. “It’s hard,” Kathryn sighs. “But I’m managing. I have my friends and Sebastian of course.” She pauses for effect, wipes away an imaginary tear.  “I just miss them so much.”

 

Grasping her hand the woman gives it a gentle squeeze. “I can only imagine. We were all so shocked. I can’t believe Tiffany is really gone. I miss her every day.”

 

They hated each other, but whatever.

 

“If there’s anything you ever need, please don’t hesitate to ask. You know my home is always open to you.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

They circle the party, discussing this seasons social calendar and what colleges Kathryn’s applied to. She waits until they are out of the way of prying ears before leaning in and quietly asking, “So Annaleigh, how’s Court doing?”

 

A look of clear delight flickers in the older woman’s eyes at the question. Annaleigh has never made it a secret that she hoped Kathryn would be the one to save her son from some of his less than wholesome tendencies. Evidently hope springs eternal.

 

“Why he’s just wonderful,” she gushes. “You know he got into Princeton and Harvard. Garrett and I are so proud. He will make a wonderful senator someday.” Leaning in close she whispers, “And an even better husband.”

 

“That’s great,” Kathryn replies, trying not to vomit up that carrot stick she had for lunch. “I do hope that ugly business from last weekend hasn’t been troubling him.”

 

Annaleigh flinches, the smile dying on her face. “Last weekend?”

 

“Yes, you know, at that party, with that young lady…I’m sure you heard all about it.”

 

Now Annaleigh Beaumont Reynolds is many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. She knows better than to show her ignorance in public. Especially when it concerns her own family.

 

“Yes of course, it must have slipped my mind. No, I’m not concerned. These things happen, boys being boys and all.” She releases a light, phony laugh, her gaze traveling around the party before landing back on her. “Tell me Kathryn, what was the name of the young lady again?”

 

Boys being boys. _The fucking enabling bitch_. She doesn’t even have to tell her what the incident involved. She knows exactly what kind of monster her son is and she just shrugs it off. Kathryn would enjoy this.

 

“Cecile Caldwell,” she replies.

 

Annaleigh flinches and swallows uneasily. Cecile is only fifteen, but looks even younger than that.

 

“Well, obviously, she’s mistaken about what happened,” Annaleigh murmurs softly, glancing back at her party as if fearful someone will over hear. “Court would never…”

 

“Of course not,” Kathryn agrees quickly. “I’m sure it’s just rumors. You know how teenagers can be.”

 

“Yes, yes,” Annaleigh nods, gripping her glass of wine so tightly her knuckles turn white.

 

Kathryn waits a beat before revealing in a whisper, “Although I think you should be aware there’s gossip at school, about a video…”

 

Annaleigh blanches at this then lets out another fake laugh. This one more shrill, more telling. “Nonsense. Those things are so easily faked these days. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

 

The terror in the older woman’s eyes clearly says otherwise but Kathryn plays along. “I’m sure you’re right. It’s just with this new headmaster at Manchester I was concerned.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well Headmaster Hargrove is known to be quite conservative. A good thing, obviously! Only I would hate to see him swayed by malicious gossip. Like you said, Court has such a bright future and it would be awful to see anyone stand in the way of that.”

 

“Yes,” Annaleigh agrees, staring off in thought, clearly already strategizing.

 

“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just, I consider Court a friend.”

 

“No! No, thank you Kathryn for coming to me with this. I deeply appreciate it.”

 

Their conversation soon dovetails into small talk, but it’s clear Annaleigh is distracted so Kathryn makes her escape. She does her duty, playing the grieving Marcia Brady, allowing everyone to reveal in her pain. It’s all she can do not to drink herself to death under the bar.

 

Later, as she’s listening to some old crones ramble on about their years at Manchester, Kathryn waits until Annaleigh joins them before casually mentioning her dear Aunt Helen’s pet project to restore the Manchester Chapel to its former glory.

 

“Sadly, now that she’s fallen ill, it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen anytime soon. I know she put aside a great deal of money to donate to the project, but since the accident all her funds are tied up with the lawyers. It’s such a shame. I know how much the headmaster was looking forward to it…”

 

All the women murmur in agreement before changing the topic to the upcoming party at the Frick. One of them however is clearly engrossed with her own thoughts. Kathryn can practically see the wheels spinning in Annaleigh’s brain as she excuses herself.

 

Watching her disappear into the study, Kathryn would bet her inheritance, or better yet _Valmont’s_ inheritance, that the old woman was off to call her husband. She has a feeling the Reynolds were about to make a sizeable donation on the behalf of their son’s bright future.

 

That’s check and mate.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Well look at that. It appears my dear aunt’s dreams of pissing away perfectly good money on a pile of pious bricks will come true after all.”

 

Kathryn turns abruptly at the news sending a small wave of water over the rim of the marble tub she’s luxuriating in. “Let me see.” Grabbing the tablet from her stepbrother’s hand, she quickly scans the article. It’s a brief write up in the _Times_ about the rather sizeable donation the Reynolds family made to the school. A satisfied grin spreads across her face. “That was quick. They must be more afraid than I thought.”

 

Sebastian leans back in the tub, his arms stretching out across the length. He should look positively ridiculous, a grown man sitting in a tub of bubbles. Rest assure he does, but at the same time she finds herself none the less deeply attracted to him. It must be her victory over the Reynolds clan. Success tends to make her horny.

 

Setting the tablet down, she takes her stepbrother’s hands and places them on her wet breasts. His lips quirk upwards in an indulgent smirk as he teases her nipples. “There is something I’m curious about,” Sebastian murmurs. “Is anyone really gossiping about this?”

 

Kathryn shrugs. “No more than usual. None of those assholes at Manchester care about who Court allegedly tried to rape this week.” With a malevolent smirk, she adds, “Not _yet_ anyway.”

 

“Aren’t you the least bit concerned Ma and Pa Reynolds will catch on?”

 

“Not particularly.” Reaching out she grasps his half hard cock bobbing in the water and begins to stroke it. “The wheels are already in motion. I’m sure as we speak, Annaleigh is having a conversation with Bunny Caldwell who is confirming, _without confirming_ of course, that Court’s transgressions against her daughter did indeed happen. She will buy her silence, albeit temporarily. Meanwhile, by the time dear Headmaster Hargrove gets wind of the fact that his choice of student body president is less than a wholesome Boy Scout, he’ll be far too indebted to the Reynolds to do anything about it. He’ll have to cover for him for the sake of his reputation and the schools.”

 

Sebastian arches into her touch, his eyes briefly fluttering shut in pleasure as she works him over. “Do you…do you really believe those infamous morals of his can be so easily destroyed?”

 

“Oh, I’m counting on it. He’s tasted the power that comes with being the headmaster of the most prestigious school on the east coast. I imagine he’ll do anything to keep it, including throwing his own daughter under the bus if need be.” Cupping his balls, she gives them a light squeeze as she muses, “What I’ll be curious to see is which Hargrove will succumb to their worst instincts first. Father or daughter?”

 

Sebastian lets out a husky peal of laughter, his hands finding their way back to her tits. “I always manage to underestimate the depths of your depravity, _sis_.”

 

Smiling at the endearment, Kathryn straddles his lap. “Perhaps you’re in need of a little reminder, _brother dear_.”

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later Kathryn is sitting in the Caldwell penthouse, listening as Bunny Caldwell ramble on about her upcoming trip to Greece. It’s an experience akin to having one’s teeth drilled minus the Novocain. Still, Kathryn has built a reputation out of smiling through this sort of nonsense so she powers on and instead she concentrates on what Caldwell isn’t telling her. Namely anything having to do with her daughter.

 

She has been there for nearly a half an hour and not once has the older woman mentioned the little waif. Which is strange. Kathryn came under the guise of securing Bunny’s participation in the annual Junior League gala and Bunny had been eager to receive her. However, she has yet to parade her offspring in front of Kathryn like a prized poodle which was her usual modus operandi. Instead, she has chosen to keep her carefully locked behind closed doors. Cecile hasn’t been in school all week. Her bruises must have not yet healed. 

 

Kathryn gaze sweeps across the Caldwell sitting room taking in the minimalist décor she’s sure some designer probably talked her into. It’s not bad, even though some of the art reeks of the Caldwell nouveau riche taste. One piece however, an antique jade vase, stands out. It’s expensive no doubt, but it’s also _familiar_. Kathryn waits for a lag in the conversation before bringing it up.

 

“My, what a gorgeous piece.”

 

“Why thank you,” Bunny preens, patting her over coiffed hair. “We recently acquired it.”

 

Kathryn sips her tea thoughtfully. “Where I might I ask?”

 

The older woman’s smile falters only slightly as she replies, “Annaleigh Reynolds. It was a…gift.”

 

“How generous.”

 

The vase easily cost a fortune and wasn’t the sort of thing one just gives out any more than they would a vintage Ferrari. It was very clearly a bribe. Kathryn watches with great amusement as Caldwell shifts uncomfortably in her chair. She lets the woman stew in her anxiety a moment before going in for the kill.

 

Leaning forward, Kathryn places a gentle hand on Bunny’s Chanel clad arm as she leans in and whispers, “How is Cecile?”

 

A myriad of emotions play out over Caldwell’s too-tight face. Surprise gives way to fear before morphing into resignation. “Y-you heard about that? I mean you heard about those vicious rumors?”

 

“I’m afraid so,” Kathryn remarks, her voice dripping with pity. “There’s so many stories circulating around campus. It’s terrible.”

 

Bunny looks as if she’s going to be sick. “My god. It’s worse than I imagined. Tell me Kathryn, were you there that night, at that boy’s party?”

 

Kathryn makes a show of looking politely offended, retracting her hand and fluttering, “Of course not. I don’t usually attend _those_ kinds of gatherings.”

 

The older woman looks appropriately contrite. “I’m so sorry. Of course you don’t. Please forgive me, but with everything that’s going on…you have to understand of course, that it’s all a lie. Everything you’ve heard. It was just a misunderstanding, that’s all. Court would never…”

 

“I completely understand.”

 

She understands alright. Bunny Caldwell doesn’t give a shit about her daughter. This isn’t exactly surprising, but it’s still rather mercenary to choose the reputation of your daughter’s _rapist_ over her wellbeing.

 

Kathryn can see it in her eyes, the quiet fury at the mess her daughters made. She suspects Bunny likely blames Cecile for not just shutting up and putting out to begin with. All this ugliness could have been avoided if Cecile had just spread her legs, let Court have his way with her and then kept quiet about it. After all, it was what every well brought up girl was taught to do.

 

“The Reynolds family has been so understanding about this,” Bunny praises. “I would hate for them to go through any unnecessary ugliness.”

 

Of course she wouldn’t. She could just imagine how accommodating Annaleigh was, polite and ingratiating while subtly letting it be known what kind of hell the Caldwell’s would face if Cecile was to accuse their son of anything so common as rape.

 

“Yes of course,” Kathryn quickly agrees. “No one wants that and anyway I’m sure this whole thing will blow over in no time, so long as…”

 

“Yes?”

 

She speaks carefully. “So long as no one goes around trying to make an issue of it.”

 

“Cecile would never!”

 

“Of course not. I was referring to someone with a more nefarious agenda.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Kathryn takes a delicate sip of her tea before asking, “Have you read the _Manchester Beat_ lately?”

 

Bunny blinks in surprise. “Just a few times. I must admit a couple articles have caught my attention, like that one about Horace van Ryan’s daughters stealing habit or the piece on the football teams drug issues.”

 

“Yes, the paper has taken a more…tawdry approach since the headmaster’s daughter took over. Apparently, she’s very ambitious.”

 

Her hands beginning to tremble, Bunny sets down her tea. “You’re not suggesting that little viper would report…NO! She’s couldn’t. I won’t allow her to drag my daughter’s name through any sort of scandal. Absolutely not.”

 

“You might not have a choice,” Kathryn replies gently. “I’ve already heard whispers of her sniffing around for information.”

 

When Caldwell’s face falls in horror it is all Kathryn can do to keep from laughing. “Oh, my god, what am I going to do?” she wails. “I cannot have this getting out. It would ruin us!”

 

“Perhaps…” Kathryn pretends to think it over a minute before continuing, “Perhaps if you had a conversation with the headmaster. You are on the school board after all, maybe if you suggested to him that it’s best if his daughter stepped down from the paper. Explain that you and perhaps some of the other board members fear that the paper is becoming a breeding ground for vicious gossip. That it’s only hurting Manchester. I’m sure his daughter can find some other kind of hobby. One that won’t hurt so many people.”

 

Bunny’s expression lights up at the idea. “Yes! Oh Kathryn, you’re so wise. That’s exactly what I’ll do. Thank you so much.”

 

As Caldwell embraces her she rolls her eyes over her shoulder. Toying with a woman like this is practically beneath her skill level. Kathryn has mind fucked cheerleaders who proved more of a challenge. She just wants it so badly. Her approval. As if there was anything about this woman she could abide.

 

“I’m happy to help,” she replies, all sweetness and light. “Cecile is such a dear girl, with such a bright future.”

 

“Tell me,” Bunny asks eagerly, “Do you have any other advice for me?”

 

“I would just do as you’ve been doing and above all, keep quiet and make sure Cecile does the same.”

 

Patting her hand, she gets to her feet and gathers her bag. “That might be easier said than done,” Caldwell mutters into her tea. When Kathryn responds with a puzzled looks she explains, “Well you know how teenagers can be, _young_ teenagers I mean. So dramatic, so quick to make a fuss.”

 

She was concerned an upset Cecile was going to blab. Bunny was likely hoping Kathryn would volunteer to talk to her. She has another idea.

 

“Bribery might help,” she advises bluntly. “Girls at that age are most susceptible to gifts, don’t you think?”

 

“Y-yes I suppose you’re right. I mean I offered to take her shopping, but she wasn’t interested it that.”

 

“Well let’s see…I hear she’s been taking music lessons, is that correct?”

 

“Yes, the cello.”

 

“Perhaps you can buy her a new instrument.” Kathryn lets the thought hang there before adding, “Or maybe something in that area.”

 

Like that hot music teacher, she’s had her eye on. The realization dawns in the older woman’s face and her shoulders sag in resignation. Better a black boyfriend, then her name dragged through the papers.

 

“Well I need to get going. I hope everything works out,” Kathryn offers sweetly.

 

“Yes, thank you so much Kathryn. For everything.”

 

“Think nothing of it.”

 

Turning on her heel, her sweetness soon melts into a sinister grin. Bunny Caldwell was a fucking idiot, but a useful one. She would keep her mouth shut and toe the Reynolds family line.

 

For now at least.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“It’s a bad idea Kathryn.”

 

It’s late afternoon and she’s bent over the divan in the east wing sitting room, skirt bunched up around her hips, tits half hanging out of her school blouse while her stepbrother plows her from behind. He took her so suddenly and so voraciously that she barely had a chance to catch her bearings, let alone follow the train of conversation. Luckily, Kathryn’s always been a wonderful multi-tasker.

 

“It’s a great idea,” she argues, picking up on their earlier discussion. Her free hand fumbles along the edge of the sofa searching for purchase while she shoves the other between her legs. Her teeth bite into her lip as she touches herself. “I’ll send it from a dummy email address, it’s untraceable.”

 

Sebastian’s grip tightens on her hips while he fucks her harder. “No, it’s too risky,” he huffs out, “What if he takes it to the cops?”

 

“He won’t. Trust me.” Pushing her ass back against him she teases, “Come on Valmont, where are those infamous balls of yours?”

 

“They’re right here sweetheart,” he snarls, slamming into her so hard that his bloated sack smacks against her spread labia. Kathryn shrieks and once again loses her train of thought.

 

Sebastian persists.

 

“This has nothing to do with balls. It’s about smarts. Hargrove’s going to kick her off the paper. That’s enough.”

 

“No it’s not.” Picking her head up, Kathryn shoots him a ridiculously depraved look over her shoulder and purrs, “Annette _loves_ her daddy.”

 

He groans, his hips snap harder. Kathryn’s cunt squeezes him tighter

 

“Oh shit…you little…”

 

“Only his complete and total corruption will do. Fuck Sebastian, yeah, right there.”

 

His thrusts speed up, he slaps her ass. Kathryn call out his name. “You’re overplaying your hand sis.”

 

Smirking against the plush fabric she gets an idea. “Care to make a wager on that?”

 

Not breaking stride, Valmont abruptly grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks her upright. Panting heavily in her ear he asks, “What did you have in mind?”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Later that week Kathryn is sitting in the administrative office waiting to speak with the headmaster. She plans on suggesting starting a Manchester restoration committee, which she of course would head. After all someone has to make sure the schools recently acquired millions are being spent properly. Her mission however is side tracked when Annette comes tarring out of her father’s office in tears.

 

 The blonde slams the heavy wood door behind her leaving Hargrove’s matronly secretary to pick up a few papers that scattered in her wake. She offers Kathryn a chagrined half smile. “Perhaps you ought to speak with the Headmaster another time dear,” she suggests, “I can set up an appointment for you tomorrow.”

 

“Yes, perhaps that is best.”

 

After making that appointment, Kathryn leaves and follows after Annette. It doesn’t take long to find her, sobbing in an abandoned stairwell. It’s all so pathetically cliché.

 

Letting the door slam closed, announcing her presence, Kathryn slowly descends the staircase. “What’s wrong?”

 

Wiping angrily at her tears Annette spits back with surprising venom, “Like you care.”

 

Kathryn is hardly rattled by her anger. “Would I be here if I didn’t?”

 

Annette studies her a moment through weary eyes before finally revealing in a broken voice, “He fired me.”

 

“What?”

 

“My father, he kicked me off the paper.”

 

She knows this of course, but Kathryn’s nothing if not the consummate actress. “Are you serious? Can he even do that?”

 

Annette lets out a humorless laugh as she pushes off the wall. “Stop acting naive. You know he can. He’s the headmaster Kathryn he can do anything he wants.”

 

“But why?”

 

“Why do you think? All those articles I’ve been writing, they’re starting to piss people off. The wrong kind of people. He wouldn’t admit it, but I know they had to be pressuring him. He told me the paper has become a breeding ground for vicious gossip and it has to stop for the good of the school. God! I can’t believe he’s being such a hypocrite.”

 

“Now who’s being naïve?”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Kathryn ignores the question and asks one of her own. “What are you going to do now?”

 

“Nothing. That’s the end of it,” Annette declares with a dejected shrug of her shoulders. “The paper can go back to covering football games and society dances. They win.”

 

“You know I never thought you were the sort who’d give up so easily,” Kathryn remarks, her voice a teasing purr. “You disappoint me little mouse.”

 

Reaching out, she caresses her face, her thumb lingering on her bottom lip tauntingly. A muscle in Annette’s cheek twitches at her touch. Slowly Kathryn advances only to be roundly rejected with a hard shove. “Stop it!” Annette snarls, brushing past her.

 

“What’s your problem?” Kathryn demands as the blonde climbs the stairs. “I’m not the enemy here.”

 

Whipping around she challenges, “Aren’t you?”

 

“I thought we were friends?”

 

“Bullshit,” Annette spits, “I’m your _little mouse_ remember? You know contrary to what you may believe, I’m not an idiot Kathryn. Everyone else at this school might buy your act but I don’t.”

 

“Well bully for you.” Letting her bitch out, she rolls her eyes and snarls, “You’re being a touch dramatic, don’t you think?”

 

“Perhaps, but it doesn’t make it any less true. You’re using me and now that I’m off the paper I don’t see any reason for this,” she waves her hand in the space between them, “whatever it is, to continue. Just leave me alone.”

 

“Annette!” Kathryn’s voice echoes off the concrete walls as she uselessly calls after her. The blonde ignores her, running up the stairs and exiting through the same door she entered.

 

She considers going after her, knowing that if pushed, she could easily make her fall back under her spell. Instead she decides to give her space, let her fury grow a little.

 

Her little mouse isn’t angry at her of course. She’s scared and she responded with spiteful anger. It was a move Kathryn knows all too well. Annette’s anger at her father however was the real deal and in order for the next step in her plan to progress, she was going to need to nurture that.

 

Kathryn doesn’t really understand the concept of parental loyalty. Neither does Sebastian, which was why he so idiotically believes this latest slight will be enough motivation for Annette to turn against her father. Kathryn might not know about loyalty, but she did know Annette. Only concrete proof of her father’s total corruption would do.

 

It was with that thought in mind, Kathryn opens the dummy email account and sends the illustrious headmaster video evidence of Cecile Caldwell’s rape.

 

Sebastian was right about one thing. It was risky. There was a chance she was underestimating the Headmaster’s morals, but something told her she wasn’t. Call it gut instinct. She knows Ben Hargrove won’t show the video to the police. He won’t show it to anyone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Well that’s great news Mrs. Caldwell. I’m sure Cecile must be thrilled.” Kathryn’s tone is so sickeningly sweet she’s in danger of nauseating herself. Cradling her phone in one ear, she half listens to Caldwell’s yammering’s while grasping a handful of blond curls with the other. She really should be paying more attention to what the hag was saying, but at the moment the only thing she could concentrate on was her stepbrother’s wicked, wicked tongue.

 

_Goddamn_.

 

“It was just so unexpected,” the older woman sighs on the other end, sounding every bit the swoony school girl. “It’s obviously very flattering that the headmaster would offer. This will be the first committee Cecile’s ever led.”

 

“First of many I’m sure.” Kathryn’s gaze admires Sebastian’s head working diligently between her legs and purrs into the receiver, “I do hope she invites me to join her little committee.”

 

“Of course! In fact, I was hoping you’d take Cecile under your wing. She’s so young and I think you’d be such a good influence on her.”

 

“I’d be honored.” Her hips involuntarily lurch upwards as Sebastian’s mouth latches on to her clit. A strangled moan threatens to escape her throat, but she quickly stifles it into a polite hum of approval. “So, Cecile is feeling better then?”

 

“Uh—yes, yes she is. I think she’s well on her way to putting all this nastiness behind her.”

 

“Good and now that Annette Hargrove is no longer writing her editorials, I imagine that she’s sleeping a lot easier now knowing her privacy isn’t in danger of being exploited.”

 

“Precisely. You know I took your advice and had a chat with Ben—I mean, headmaster Hargrove and he agreed with me that his daughter and her colorful brand of journalism, needed to stop. You know it’s nice, in this day in age…”

 

_Uh_ , she was startling to ramble again and Kathryn can’t be bothered to listen. Especially not when she was so…

 

“Yes, I completely agree.”

 

…close.

 

_Fuck, just a little bit more..._

 

“Oh, I can’t wait to show you…I think you’ll be really impressed with all the improvements we’ve made…”

 

“Hm-mm.”

 

_What was she even talking about?_

 

“Don’t you agree?”

 

“Oh yes…yesss…”

 

Kathryn lingers a bit too long on that word, but she’s past caring. Instead she pictures the look on prim and proper Caldwell’s face if she was to discover that while she is babbling on about her decorator Kathryn was in the middle of getting her pussy eaten out by her stepbrother. Soon laughter and her quickly approaching orgasm make it necessary for her to mute the phone call.

 

Her hips begin to buck in a hurried, messy rhythm as she chases the pleasure building between her thighs. Kathryn lets the phone fall from her hand and she grasps the edge of the Queen Anne sofa. Head tossed back, her body begins to quake. Her nails dig into Sebastian’s scalp, her thighs clamp tightly around his face and then for one blissful moment everything goes white. Her moment of ecstasy is accompanied by a half-choked growl of pleasure and a litany of colorful curses. Later on, when Kathryn thinks back on it she’ll roll her eyes at her lack of decorum, but in that moment decorum could go fuck itself.

 

When she comes back to earth, her eyes flutter open only to find Sebastian staring up at her from his crouched position between her legs. His cheeks are pink, his mouth wet and he’s looking entirely too smug, yet despite that Kathryn finds herself feeling almost unbearably affectionate towards him. She might even love him. Well, as much as someone like her could love anyone. Then again, it might just be the orgasm talking.

 

“Phone,” Sebastian murmurs.

 

“Huh?” When he nods in the direction of the forgotten cellphone she startles, “Oh!” Unmuting the phone, she listens only to find Caldwell still prattling on about who can tell. Kathryn rolls her eyes and replies, “Yes, I so agree.”

 

As she wraps up her insidious phone call, she watches as Sebastian lumbers to his feet. When he bends forward to kiss the edge of her mouth she can taste her secretions still lingering on his lips. If she wasn’t so preoccupied at the moment he’d be feeding her his tongue so she could suck it clean. Her thoughts starting to stray again, Kathryn reaches out to trace her stepbrother’s prominent bulge.

 

“Well that sounds lovely Mrs. Caldwell. I look forward to discussing it with Cecile…”

 

The woman continues to ramble. _Jesus shut the fuck up_. Sebastian presses her hand to his groin and levels a pointed, impatient look at her. Kathryn rolls her eyes.

 

“Yes, well I’ll talk to you soon…yes, goodbye.”

 

She hangs up before the conversation can linger on any longer. “That woman is a menace,” Sebastian sneers with all the haughty superiority of his class. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was trying to deliberately cock block me.”

 

“Yes, well she may be annoying but she is useful,” Kathryn sighs, dropping her cell to the couch. Stretching out like a cat in the sun, she explains, “It seems Hargrove has gifted her with my role of head of the restoration committee.”

 

“The committee that you suggested?” Reaching for his forgotten glass of bourbon Sebastian takes a sip and remarks flippantly, “That has to sting.”

 

“It might, if his incompetence wasn’t indirectly benefiting me.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Don’t you see? He saw that video, he knows what his protégé did. This is a _bribe_. A way to keep Cecile happy and her harpy mother off his back. It’s rather ingenious actually. Although something tells me Annette won’t see it that way.”

 

Sebastian removes a cigarette from his silver-plated case and pops it in his mouth. Lighting up he murmurs, “I don’t see it.”

 

“He’s seen the video and rather than go to the police, he’s chosen to keep Cecile quiet. Not only does it prove his corruption, but I believe it means I’ve won our little bet as well.”

 

He stares down at her blankly a moment, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. He could still—“

 

“It’s been two weeks,” Kathryn interjects. She releases a bored sigh. “I suspected you might be difficult about this so took the liberty of having Blaine hack into his computer. The email I sent him has been viewed. And discarded in the trash.” Picking up her cell she suggested, “Call him. He’ll back me up.”

 

They both know Blaine would rather eat pussy then lie for her. When Sebastian only glares at the offered phone she tosses it aside with a smug smirk. “Face it Valmont, he hasn’t gone to the police or anyone else about what he saw on that video. And he won’t. Just as I predicted.” Rising to her feet she declares, “I win.”

 

“Well I still say he could.”

 

Kathryn rolls her eyes. Sebastian never could suffer defeat gracefully. She supposes they share that in common. “I think you’re forgetting the fact that this will only serve to benefit us. Don’t you see it will make it all the more delicious when Annette exposes him.” Looking petulant he exhaled loudly. _Such a fucking child_. Kathryn couldn’t resist mocking him. “Come on Sebastian there’s no point in being a sore loser.” Leaning into him, she flicks her tongue against his ear and taunts, “After all you’ll be _plenty_ sore after I get done collecting my winnings.”

 

Sebastian pushes her away, but she could tell by the small smile that was threatening to break through his stony expression that he wasn’t as angry as he appears. He still makes a show of rolling his eyes before admitting, “Alright. Fine. You win.”

 

“Now was that so hard?” Kathryn coos. Wordlessly she takes the cigarette from his hand then nods her head towards the bed.

 

Sebastian unfastens his pants and lets them drop before crawling into the alcove bed. He removes his shirt then obediently positions himself for mounting. Smiling at the display, Kathryn carelessly tosses off her negligee and takes a final drag off the cigarette. Reaching into her chest of goodies, she removes one of her most cherished toys. As she steps into the harness Kathryn admires her prize and remarks, “I do love a good kill.”

 

Sebastian shoots her a knowing look. “Don’t you mean _win_?”

 

“Same difference.”

 

 


	13. A Flood of Naked Truth

 

 

 

**_There is no better way to overpower a trickle of doubt than with a flood of naked truth._ **

* * *

 

 

Annette is late. Throwing a quick glance towards the alarm clock beside her bed she cringes when she sees the time. _Shit_. Even if the subway was miraculously on time, there was no way she was going to make it to homeroom before the bell. She’d have to run.

 

Scurrying around her cramped bedroom, she quickly gathers up her books, her tartan skirt flapping haphazardly behind her. She curses as she shoves her books into her worn leather bag, wishing she had time to grab a bagel or something. Unfortunately, the cold war that has sprung up between her and her father has made getting breakfast more trying than normal.

 

Perhaps her father was right, perhaps she was being stubborn. But she was also _right_. He was being a hypocrite.

 

Annette’s whole life her father has preached to her the importance of doing what is right and standing by her convictions. He has always set high moral standards for her and she had done her best to live up to him. Apparently, it was foolish and naive of her to expect him to do the same.

 

She wasn’t writing about gossip, she was writing the truth and he knew it dammit! But evidently the truth didn’t matter anymore. All her father cared about was appeasing the entitled trust fund brats he was supposed to be educating and their social climbing power hungry parents. Well that was something Annette couldn’t and wouldn’t abide. He might think she was being stubborn and irrational, but it was better than being a phony.

 

So, if she has to skip a few meals to avoid dining with her father so be it. She could always stand to lose a few pounds.

 

Annette’s inner monologue is soon interrupted by her ringing phone. Frowning she digs it out of her bag and sighs when she sees who it is. Against her better judgement, she answers it. “What do you want Kathryn?”

 

“I see someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” she retorts in her usual melodic purr.

 

“I’m late,” Annette sighs, jogging down the stairs. They creek with every step and she loves it, loves the history in the old house. It’s a beautiful pre-war townhouse and the kind of place they could never afford to live in if it wasn’t owned by the school.

 

Speaking of which.

 

“Are you at school? Maybe we can talk there.” Maybe. She has been trying to distance herself from the enigmatic Merteuil, but just hearing her voice made her stomach flutter. Annette tries her best to snuff these odd feelings out. Kathryn can’t be trusted she reminds herself.

 

“Actually,” Kathryn sighs, “I’m taking a day. It’s far too nice out to be cooped up in school. Weather like this needs to be exploited.”

 

“Well exploiting things does seem to be your specialty,” Annette mutters sardonically into the receiver while checking under the couch for her physics notebook.

 

Rather than be insulted the other girl laughs. “I see you’re still pissed at me, but for what I still don’t know. It’s not like I’m the one who kicked you off the paper.”

 

This was true enough although Annette couldn’t escape the feeling Kathryn was somehow involved. Kathryn was always involved. Perhaps she was being unfair. Maybe not.

 

“Look can we talk about this later? I’m really running late.”

 

“No you’re not.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“I took the liberty of calling you in sick,” she explains as if that’s a completely normal thing to do. “I’m heading up to my family’s estate on Long Island and I want you to come with me.”

 

Annette pauses in her search for her book and takes this is. Caught somewhere between astonishment and exasperation she sputters, “How did you…never mind, whatever, I don’t want to know. I _am_ going to school Kathryn. I have a million things to do, not to mention a physics exam—”

 

“What you need is a day off. You have to learn to relax and enjoy yourself.”

 

“I know how to relax,” she insists. “And I enjoy myself plenty.”

 

“Is that a fact?” Kathryn purrs in a suggestive tone that makes Annette blush. “Prove it.”

 

“I don’t have to prove anything to you.” Heading for the door, she tugs her bag over her shoulder and announces, “I’m hanging up now.” She ends the call and tosses her phone in her bag with a triumphant flourish.

 

Annette gets two feet out her door when she looks up and comes to an immediate halt. Parked at the curb is a limo. The window rolls down and Kathryn appears sporting large oval sunglasses and a smirk. “Get your ass in the car little mouse,” she calls out to her.

 

Staring flabbergasted at the car, a half a dozen snarky rebukes filter through her brain. Annette doesn’t have time for this, not to mention she’s sick and tired of Kathryn treating her like her little wind up toy to pull out whenever the need strikes.

 

She’s going to tell her to fuck off. She is. But then Kathryn removes her sunglasses and her expression softens and she appears almost contrite.  “Please?”

 

_Oh hell_.

 

Annette lets out a heavy sigh. “Do I have time to change?”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s unbearably hot for early October so Annette doesn’t think twice when Kathryn suggests they take a dip in the pool. She borrows the lone one piece in Kathryn ridiculous collection of swim suits. It looks relatively modest until she turns around and realizes the back only covers half her ass. When they get to the pool, she wastes no time dropping her towel and disappearing into the cool water.

 

Annette floats on the surface, gazing up at the blazing early afternoon sun, half listening as Kathryn snaps instructions at a servant. She turns around just in time to see Kathryn drop her silk coverup. Her swim suit, a red bikini, is decidedly less modest than Annette’s. She swallows thickly, her gaze drinking in the other girls toned, flat stomach, the slender curve of her hips, the way her breasts jut against the tight fabric of her suit.

 

_Oh god what was wrong with her?_

 

Overheated and embarrassed, Annette sinks underneath the water as if it somehow had the power to cleanse her brain and her body from that dangerous train of thought. She needs to stop. She wasn’t like _that_. And even if she was, Kathryn was the last person she would ever…be with in that way. 

 

Annette stays under water until her lungs burn and she’s forced to surface. She takes in a big gulp of air. “You okay?” Kathryn calls from the across the pool, voice warmly amused.

 

“Yeah”

 

Kathryn gracefully dives into the water and soon emerges in front of her. Annette blinks, caught off balance by her sudden proximity. She swims back a little, putting space between them. Kathryn laughs, that mischievous little girl giggle of hers. “Don’t worry little mouse. I don’t bite.” Swimming closer to her she adds, “Unless of course you want me to.”

 

She rolls her eyes at the come on. Annette is not an idiot. She knows Kathryn’s been trying to seduce her, but to what end she couldn’t be sure. Was she honestly attracted to her or was this just some sort of game? Maybe both.

 

Eager to change the subject Annette looks towards the giant brick mansion looming in the distance and remarks, “This place is really beautiful. Do you come here often?”

 

“Only during the summer. Aunt Helen lives here full time,” Kathryn frowns. “Or at least she did.”

 

Annette recalls hearing about Helen Rosemond’s accident from her father. She was in some sort of medically induced coma. “I’m sorry. Has there been any change in her condition?”

 

“None. She’ll likely be a vegetable for the rest of her life.”

 

Kathryn’s tone is oddly cool. Before Annette can question her further, Kathryn smiles and changes the subject. “You know you fill that suit out better than I could ever hope to Hargrove.”

 

Annette blushes and tugs self-consciously at the backside. “My ass does anyway.”

 

The brunette swats her hand away and replaces it with her own. Gently she tugs her forward so her body is flush with her own. Annette gasps at the sudden maneuver. Kathryn licks her lips and murmurs gently, “Stop it. You’re beautiful. You have nothing to be self-conscious of.”

 

Annette was very aware of her own heartbeat. Her eyes linger on Kathryn’s wet mouth, hovering only inches from her own. She remembers those lips kissing her own. She remembers them brushing her collar bone, suckling her nipple. It never went further than that. Annette made sure of it.

 

But she wanted it. She wasn’t so self-delusional she couldn’t admit that to herself. Whatever this was between her and Kathryn she wanted it. That didn’t mean it was a good idea however.

 

“Kathryn I -“

 

“Shh,” she whispers as she leans in to close to the short gap between them. Whatever Annette was going to say dies on her tongue as her eyes flutter shut and—

 

“Well isn’t this cozy.”

 

The voice is sharply amused and deeply masculine and the sound of it causes Annette to jolt out of Kathryn’s arms in surprise. She turns to find Sebastian Valmont looming over them with a knowing smirk. “Am I interrupting anything?”

 

“Impeccable timing as always Valmont,” Kathryn grumbles, rolling her eyes. “I had forgotten you were here.”

 

“Well not for long I’m afraid. I have to go back into the city for a meeting. I was going to ask if you needed a ride, but I can see you’re preoccupied.” Removing his sunglasses, he turns his attentions on Annette with a smile that some might label charming but Annette saw it as predatory. “Hello, I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Sebastian Valmont.”

 

“Annette Hargrove.”

 

“Ah yes, our new headmaster’s daughter. How are you enjoying Manchester?”

 

“It’s great,” she replies, wondering if the flush from earlier is still visible on her cheeks. “I’m learning a lot.”

 

“Yes, I’m sure. Kathryn’s an excellent tutor.”

 

Part of Annette wants to sink back into the water in embarrassment, but another part, the one that resents having to be made to feel ashamed wants to strike back at the smug jerk. She was suddenly struck by the childish need to splash him and ruin his pretty gray suit.

 

“Sebastian, run along,” Kathryn sighs annoyed.

 

“Don’t be rude sis, I’m just getting to know your new friend.” The two share a look loaded with what Annette couldn’t be sure, but she didn’t like it.

 

Swimming to the edge of the pool Annette addresses him, voice honey sweet. A near perfect imitation of the one she’s heard Kathryn use on people in the halls. “You know Sebastian I don’t remember seeing you around school.”

 

He turns his attention back to her, looking a little annoyed. “No, you wouldn’t have. I’m taking a bit of a sabbatical, but I expect to be back by next semester.”

 

“Sabbatical? Is that what you Upper East Side kids call _expulsion_?”

 

Kathryn let out a short laugh behind her. “Sebastian’s hoping to be a fifth-year senior.”

 

Sebastian scowls. “Bite me sis.”

 

She merely laughs as she climbs out of the pool. Watching her Annette observers her suit covers even less of her backside than Annette’s. She’s so entranced by the sight, she doesn’t notice that Sebastian has leaned in close to her. “She really has a fantastic ass, doesn’t she?” he whispers to her.

 

Annette jerks back from him in surprise. “Excuse me?”

 

He merely smirks back at her and Annette decides then that she doesn’t like him. Sebastian was indeed handsome, beautiful even, but there was a cruel smugness about him, like a Bret Easton Ellis character come to life.

 

“I’ve read some of your articles. You have quite a way with words Mrs. Hargrove.”

 

“Thank you,” she replies stonily.

 

“I especially enjoyed your manifesto in Seventeen magazine. Pretty illuminating stuff.” He slips back into his sunglasses and adds snidely, “I thought I caught a whiff of lesbian in it.”

 

Annette is about to snap back when Kathryn calls out sharply, “Sebastian be nice or get lost.”

 

“My apologies,” he practically sneers at Annette. When his back is turned, she takes the opportunity to jump out of the pool, not wanting to be ogled like his sister was. Wrapping a towel around herself she takes a seat in the lounge chair beside Kathryn. The servants have laid out a spread of water, ice tea and fruit. Annette snags a strawberry, ignoring Sebastian as he joins them.

 

“I have to get going,” he tells his sister. “Call me later?”

 

“Hmm,” Kathryn hums absently, now contentedly laid out soaking in the sun. “If I must.”

 

“It was nice meeting you Annette.” There’s the slightest trace of sarcasm in his greeting as he turns to depart.

 

“You too.” Annette has to stop herself from sticking out her tongue at his retreating back. Once they’re alone again she remarks, “So that’s your brother?”

 

“Hmm yes,” Kathryn sighs. “Sorry about that. I’d say he’s not usually such an asshole, but that would be a lie.”

 

Thinking back on what she’s heard of him and his infamous reputation Annette remarks, “I find it hard to believe he’s gotten that many girls to sleep with him.”

 

“Never underestimate the power of a pretty boy with a bad reputation.” Kathryn shrugs. “He can be quite charming when he wants to. And he’s good in bed. Or so I hear.”

 

“You know he was checking you out when you got out of the pool.”

 

“I’m sure he was. Sebastian enjoys shocking people. Plus, he really gets off on the whole faux incest thing.”

 

Thinking back on some earlier comments she made, namely about how attractive she found him, Annette begins to wonder about the stepsibling’s relationship. “And do you get off on it as well?”

 

Kathryn turns to her, a teasing smile on her lips. “Someone’s in investigative journalist mode. Why don’t you have a drink.”

 

It wasn’t an answer.

 

None the less Annette reaches for a glass of ice tea. She brings it to her lips then stops when she smells the tequila. Setting it down she remarks wryly, “Nice try.”

 

“Something wrong?”

 

“Yeah I don’t like long island ice teas.” Annette flashes back to the summer she turned fourteen when she and her best friend Mirabel drank a whole pitcher of long island ice tea only to spend the rest of the evening throwing up in her grandmother’s rose bushes. Tucking her legs underneath herself Annette asks bluntly, “Are you trying to seduce me?”

 

“Do you want me to?”

 

_No. Yes. Maybe._

 

“I have a boyfriend.”

 

“Oh yes, Tom. How is he?”

 

“ _Trevor_ and he’s fine.” Or at least he was fine the last time they spoke. Almost three weeks ago.

 

Kathryn stretches her arms lazily above her head and sighs. “Relax little mouse, you’re safe.” Looking at her over the rim of her sunglasses she adds, “For now at least.”

 

Ignoring the fluttering her stomach that threat elicited, she presses, “I’m surprised you still want to have anything to do with me now that I’m not on the paper.”

 

“Are we back to this again?” Kathryn sighs. “Despite what you seem to think, I wasn’t just using you for your access to the paper. I like you Annette. In fact, I admire you.”

 

“You _admire_ me?” she echoes incredulously. “Come on.”

 

“Is it really so hard to believe? You’re smart, and you’re brave, and you don’t care what anyone thinks about you. That’s certainly a rarity at our school.”

 

“I suppose but you have plenty of friends—

 

“Minions and sycophants,” she tells her. “They don’t know the first thing about me. Nothing real any way.”

 

“And I do?”

 

Kathryn removes her sunglasses. Hurt flashes in her eyes as she replies, “I thought you did.”

 

Annette doesn’t know what to make of this suddenly vulnerable looking Kathryn. “I’m sorry Kathryn. I didn’t mean…I guess I just have been on edge lately after everything that’s happened with the paper and my dad.”

 

“Are you still fighting with him?”

 

“Yeah,” she sighs, “And I hate it. I know it’s stupid, but he’s like my best friend. I miss him.”

 

“Even though he betrayed you?”

 

Annette shakes her head. “He didn’t betray me, he just did what he thought was best for the school. I guess I can understand that. My father’s a good man.”

 

“If you say so,” Kathryn replies coolly.

 

Annette’s brows shoot up at her tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Kathryn stares at her hard for a moment, her eyes searching her face. Finally, she sighs, “It’s nothing. Look the sun is starting to give me a headache.” Abruptly she gets to her feet, grabs her cover up. “I’m going to lay down.”

 

Kathryn makes her departure leaving Annette to stare after her baffled. She goes over their conversation in her head, trying to figure out what she could have said to set her off, but comes up frustratingly short. After a while, feeling like an idiot sitting amongst all this luxury by herself, Annette gets up and heads back to the house. She goes upstairs and changes. When she comes back downstairs she hears music coming from the library. Following it, she finds Kathryn sitting at the piano, absently tinkering with the keys. She stops when Annette enters.

 

“Look Kathryn I don’t know what I said but I’m sorry.”

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she says.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

Kathryn pushes back from the piano and runs a hand through her wet hair. “Did you hear about what went down at Blaine Tuttle’s party a couple weeks ago?”

 

Annette shakes her head and smiled wryly. “I don’t exactly get invited to those kinds of parties Kathryn.”

 

“Do you know Cecile Caldwell?”

 

“Sure. Bunny Caldwell’s daughter. She’s a sophomore, right?”

 

Kathryn nods. “Well she went to that party with Court Reynolds and well, he raped her.”

 

“What?” Annette shakes her head, trying to digest this and the matter of fact way Kathryn told her. “I mean, how do you know?”

 

“It’s all around campus. I’m rather surprised you haven’t heard about it.”

 

Annette isn’t exactly miss popularity around Manchester. She has a few friends, serious girls who spend most of the time discussing their academic pursuits not the latest salacious gossip. They’re superficial relationships at best.

 

“Well has she reported it?”

 

Kathryn levels a, _you can’t be serious_ , look at her. “You know better than that little mouse. This is the Upper East Side. We don’t discuss such things, let alone report them. Bunny Caldwell would never stand for that kind of embarrassment.”

 

Annette once again finds herself cursing this twisted world she’s entered into. She can’t imagine a parent not doing everything in their power to protect their child. It’s unfathomable.

 

“Maybe it’s just gossip. I mean maybe that’s why she hasn’t—

 

“There’s a video.”

 

“What? How?”

 

“Blaine is very into security. Every room of his house is wired with cameras. I’m assuming he’s the one who leaked it.”

 

“He leaked a video of a fifteen-year-old girl getting raped?” she spat incredulously. “Charming guy.”

 

“Yeah, well that’s Blaine.”

 

Annette’s never officially met Blaine Tuttle but she’s heard of his reputation and seen him in the halls. She knows he’s a dealer and openly gay and always seems to be on the fringes of the latest scandal. Also, no surprise, he seems to hang out a lot with Sebastian. Apparently, assholes stick together.

 

“Anyway, Blaine’s not the issue,” Kathryn argues.

 

“No Court is. Someone should take that video to the cops.”

 

Kathryn lets out a humorless chuckle. “And what do you think that will accomplish little mouse? The Reynolds family are deeply connected, politically and otherwise. Anyone who goes up against them is on a suicide mission.”

 

“You sound like you’re afraid of them.”

 

“Of course I am,” she replies tersely. “Aren’t you?”

 

“No”

 

If her time in Manhattan has taught her anything it’s this: these people with all their money and supposed power aren’t any better or tougher than her. They’re certainly not smarter.

 

“You know I’ve been digging a little bit into Court’s past—

 

“I thought I told you not to!” Kathryn exclaims, getting to her feet. “Jesus Christ Annette.”

 

“I know, I know but listen. This guy is dirty. I’ve talked to at least four girls who’ve told me he assaulted them in some way. One of them used to work for the Reynolds family—

 

“A disgruntled employee? I’m sure she’ll make an excellent witness,” Kathryn chirps sarcastically, as she starts pacing the room.

 

Ignoring her she continues, “None of them would go on the record, but I bet they’d change their minds if they saw that video. One assault they could sweep under the rug, but several? That’s a pattern. They can’t make that go away. The Reynolds might be able to fight off one girl, but an army?”

 

“An army?” Kathryn echoes. “Where do you purpose to get that?”

 

“This is the social media age.” She held up her phone for emphasis. “It’s right at our finger tips.”

 

Surprise flickers across Kathryn’s features and if Annette’s not mistaken approval. “I’m impressed little mouse. You have bigger balls than I thought.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Annette’s expression dims a little when she recalls something else she learned during her investigation of Court. One of the girls had tossed off the tidbit absentmindedly and Annette had tucked in away in the back of her brain, intending to follow up on it later. It had never seemed like a good time, but she guessed now was as good a time as any.

 

“Um, you know I heard that you used to go out with Court. Awhile back.”

 

Kathryn goes very still at the statement. The earlier humor dies on her face and Annette thinks she can actually see her pull back within herself. There’s a long stretch of tension filled silence and she thinks she might have overstepped. Kathryn turns away from her and walks to the window. When she speaks her voice is devoid of emotion.

 

“Yes we went out. The summer before high school.”

 

“Oh.” Annette wants to ask the follow up question, but is too afraid to voice it.

 

Kathryn looks back at her with a brittle smile. “Ask the question little mouse.”

 

“Did he—”

 

“Yes.”

 

Annette let’s out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as she edges closer to her friend wanting to offer comfort or something. Kathryn’s eyes narrow at her as if warning her to back off. She does.

 

“My Aunt Helen throws, or rather she used to throw, an end of the summer gala each year. Gowns, tuxes, champagne. The first year I was invited to attend, Court was my date. We were having a wonderful time and then he told me he wanted to show me something upstairs. I wasn’t a moron. I figured he wanted to fool around.” Kathryn takes a breath, folding her arms across her chest. Her gaze doesn’t waver from Annette as she tells her plainly, “It was fine at first, but when I told him I wanted to go back to the party he started to get aggressive. Mean. I tried to leave, but he hit me and threw me on the bed. I screamed, I begged but he didn’t care. He suffocated me until I couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t stop. Even when I got sick he didn’t stop. He fucked me until I bled and when he finished he left me covered in vomit and cum then he went back to the party as if nothing happened.”

 

Annette takes this all in horrified and heartbroken for that little girl. She also wonders how much of that night informed on the girl Kathryn ultimately became. Was Court Reynolds the reason she was so standoffish and secretive?

 

“Kathryn I’m so—

 

She holds up her hand, silencing her. “I’m fine,” she says, her tone flat and resigned. “It was a long time ago and until recently I had put the whole thing out of my mind.”

 

Annette isn’t entirely sure she believes that, but she didn’t press. Instead she asked, “Did you ever tell anyone?”

 

“Aunt Helen found me that night, but I made her promise not to tell anyone. She kept my secret.”

 

_What the hell kind of adult keeps something like that quiet_ , she wonders but keeps the question to herself.

 

“And Sebastian knows.”

 

Annette is not surprised by this. “You two really are close.”

 

It’s a statement not a question but Kathryn replies, “We’ve known each other a long time.”

 

She turns away from her then, goes back to staring out the window, effectively ending the conversation. Unfortunately for her however, Annette wasn’t done talking. “Look I know you would never go to the police—

 

“No, I wouldn’t,” Kathryn snaps sharply. “And neither will you. What I told you here doesn’t leave this room, understand?”

 

She nods. “I get it, but Kathryn we can’t just stand by and do nothing. Girls are getting hurt. He’s clearly not going to stop.” Squaring her shoulders, she declares, “I’m going to write a piece about this. Don’t worry I’ll leave you out of it, but someone has to do something.”

 

“You’re not on the school paper anymore, remember?”

 

“Fuck the school paper. A story like this needs a bigger forum. I know a few people at the _Times_. They might be interested.”

 

“We’re not a fucking vigilante squad Hargrove. You can’t just go around writing whatever you please.”

 

“Oh yeah? Watch me.”

 

Kathryn studies her, a faint smile on her lips. “It appears I’ve created a monster. Look Annette, there’s something else you need to know.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“This story…it was the reason you were kicked off the paper.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The Reynolds, they found out about what their son did and they of course they couldn’t have it getting out. That’s why they made that ridiculous endorsement to the school. It’s why Bunny Caldwell is suddenly sitting second chair on the Whitney Committee and it’s also why your father had you removed from the paper.”

 

Annette shook her head in disbelief. “Are you suggesting my father knows about what happened to Cecile? No. No way. Kathryn he would never let someone get away with something like this. Trust me, if he even _suspected_ Court had hurt anyone he would be the first person to turn him in.”

 

“Really, even if it meant pissing off one of the most powerful families on the East Coast?”

 

“Yes! My father is an honest and a good man!”

 

“Oh, wake up Annette! Even good men can be compromised. The Reynolds have donated millions to the school. How would it look if your father accused their pride and joy, the same guy he _hand picked_ for student body president, of being a rapist? The school board would toss him out and the Reynolds family would make sure he couldn’t even get a job teaching at a charter school. You know I’m right.”

 

There was a tiny voice in her head wondering if Kathryn was right. She knew how important this job was to her father. Would he really set aside all his morals and ethics just to appease some rich and powerful monsters? Annette couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t believe it.

 

“You’re wrong Kathryn,” she insists, her lip trembling even as she tried to hold her own. “I know you’re wrong.”

 

“Alright then. Prove it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Later that night Annette finds herself sneaking into her father’s study after he goes to bed. She doesn’t like it. If feels like a betrayal, but Kathryn insists that there was likely proof of her father’s complicity in Court’s crimes located somewhere in his emails. Annette was determined to prove her father’s innocence.

 

She knows his email password (her mother’s birthday) having snuck a peak over his shoulder one afternoon. At the time she never thought she’d actually use it, she just filed the information away for safe keeping.

 

Annette carefully types in the keys, holding her breath as if anticipating getting caught any minute. She glances at the partially open door before hitting enter.

 

Dread fills her stomach as she begins looking through his past correspondence. She hates this, it’s such a violation of his privacy. She looks through the past couple of weeks but there’s nothing. Outside of administrative emails and a couple sent from herself, there’s nothing incriminating. Annette breathes a sigh of relief.

 

It feels as if a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. She should have known better, she tells herself. Her father just wasn’t that kind of man.

 

Feeling confident, cocky even, she takes out her cell intending to call Kathryn and let her know how wrong she was and how dare she make her doubt her own father.

 

As she’s waiting for Kathryn to pick up she stares at the screen and notices his junk box has two items. Almost absently she opens it. Both have been viewed before. One is an ad for Zoloft the other is blank. Annette opens it and her stomach immediately drops. She ends the call before Kathryn can pick up.

 

There’s a video file simply titled, _Reynolds_. With shaky hands, she clicks on it. The screen fills with a black and white image of two people in a bedroom. Court and Cecile Caldwell.

 

_“I want to go home,” she cries trying to get past him. “Take me home.”_

_“We just got here. Be nice or I won’t be Cecile.”_

_“Let go of me!”_

 

His responding smack is so loud Annette jumps in her seat.

 

_“Stop your goddamn whining!”_

_“Get off me! Leave me alone!”_

 

Cecile fights him. He smacks her again, they wrestle around violently and soon he has her on her stomach and he’s holding her down.

 

Unable to stomach any more Annette shuts it off. She thinks about Kathryn being in the same position and suddenly she feels ill. Court Reynolds was a fucking monster.

 

And her father knows it. He knows and he did nothing but throw the video out.

 

Kathryn was right.

 

Annette grabs her phone and dials Kathryn back. This time she picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”

 

“Kathryn, you were right. About my father, about everything.” Running a shaky hand through her hair she asks, “What do we do next?”


End file.
